I Was Just Stock In The Middle,

So Much Had Happened That Morning. Yet It Was This Image, This Moment, That I Kept Going Back To Hours Later, After We'd Made It Safely To The Walkway And Gone Our Separate Ways To Classes. How It Felt To Have The World Moving Beneath Me, A Hand Gripping Mine, Knowing If I Fell, At Least I Wouldn't Do It Alone.

Now, Now," My Father Said. "let's Just Get The Bags." This Was Typical. My Father, The Lone Male In Our Estrogen-heavy Household, Had Always Dealt With Any Kind Of Emotional Situation Or Conflict By Doing Something Concrete And Specific. Discussion Of Cramps And Heavy Flow At The Breakfast Table? He Was Up And Out The Door To Change Oil On One Of Our Cars. Coming Home In Tears For Reasons You Just Didn't Want To Discuss? He'd Go Make You A Grilled Cheese, Which He'd Probably End Up Eating. Family Crisis Brewing In A Public Place? Bags. Get The Bags.

Once, This Had Been The Life I’d Wanted. Even Chosen. Now, Though, I Couldn’t Believe That There Had Been A Time When This Kind Of Monotony And Silence, This Most Narrow Of Existences, Had Been Preferable. Then Again, Once, I’d Never Known Anything Else.

In Those First Few Hours Officially Single Again The World Seems Like It Expands, Suddenly Bigger And More Vast Now That You Have To Get Through It Alone.

No One Could Tell You: You Just Had To Go Through It On Your Own. If You Were Lucky, You Came Out On The Other Side And Understood. If You Didn't, You Kept Getting Thrust Back, Retracing Those Steps, Until You Finally Got It Right.