Jennifer A. Chin (cswallow) wrote,
Jennifer A. Chin


I meant to spend my afternoon working on calculus, but how quickly I allow myself to be distracted from this good intention. The french doors to the kitchen are thrown wide to the warm late afternoon air. It's only January, but there is a twinge of spring - the hum of a leafblower entwines with sparrows scolding, creamy bright light streams through trees onto the backyard wall. The textbook spreads its pages, forgotten.

Of all days, these I remember the most. The most simple conversations, passing small talk, sparkle with life. Suddenly shy, I forget to look up, I am sweetened. Then time speeds and the moments have passed.

The house is cold. Skin pressed flat against my laptop's case, my palms try to soak heat from the metal. Alone, I seek what warmth I can. Today I find stillness, and I turn suddenly reflective. What have I missed? Locked in myself, I yearn for the lost connection. Many hours pass this way, I fill the space with books or games or movies, looking for the moment in another's words.

On my luckier days, those simple conversations arise and emboldened, I look up. Suddenly close, we feel the warmth of each other, we move and bend. The day arches alongside me, like a pet stretching. I carry it. Long after sleep comes, my dreams remember the sway of the kept moment. My hands clench reflexively in the dark, holding.
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