LYRICAL PROSE

If You Were Here My Child

There are things I’d like to say to you if you were here

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Not the grand things people imagine. Speeches about life’s purpose, guidance on finding your path. I’m lost even now. So no, none of that.

Simply small, ordinary things that make up a simple life.

I’d tell you that your first kiss is like a rainbow shining over your head after a July summer storm. You’ll wonder where your feet went, convinced you’ve somehow lifted an inch off the ground. Then you’ll replay it over and over until someone else comes along and kisses you.

I’d tell you that, sadly, your heart will be broken. You’ll ache. You’ll cry. You may stay in bed for days, convinced the pain will never leave. It will. And you will move on.

I’d tell you to never stop looking up at the stars, because they have a way of making your troubles seem the right size.

I’d tell you that dogs will love you on your worst days without asking a single question.

I’d tell you to stand barefoot in the ocean and watch the waves lap at your feet, and the gray pelicans skim the crests, to feel the cold water shock the skin and tingle your toes, and how the tide, like life, is always shifting.