Was it a good year?

you ask yourself as the memories fall like glitter flakes in a kaleidoscope.

then you spin again, and new shapes form:

and you remember waking up early

for no good reason and having your head stroked

while a record played in the background,

one you were not expecting,

and you remember staying up late for good reason,

wondering if you could make it through all this.

there was this trip and that one, a few friends died, some still raising kids,

and you think now of Camus and what it’s like to be a stranger

in your own land

and how everyone wants to make something

of the details

of your life,

—including you.

but the flakes just keep falling, and ideas of good and bad are like sunsets:

you watch,

you wait, and it all just eventually

fades.

Photo by James Owen on Unsplash