For awhile, we could not see the end...
For awhile, I was more preoccupied with the shape of towering eucalyptus trees guarding slanted grassy horizons, dotted with masked people and (unmasked) dogs. Hesitantly on my skateboard, I stared down and worked my way around the free throw line. I stared down until I felt my body begin to glide. For awhile, the shape of the “curve” looked like a pacific sunset wave. In the summer, I’d come here and watch the horizon into darkness.
By winter, the “curve” skated upwards. More people caught it. More people died from it. We were warned about this the entire time. Mostly I saw the shape of the fours corners of my apartment. On the 212th morning, I woke up again to two pairs of jagged black ears — those belonging to the kittens I adopted during this time.
I miss seeing the shape of a human I adore on a morning like this. It won’t be too long. A shape is made by seeing what it is *not*. If I can see shape of the end, then I can also start to see the shape of a new beginning. It’s close enough.