Tree Roots Following The Pattern Of Concrete Footpaths

Tree roots following the pattern of concrete footpaths

often, when i dream i am in my mother's house.

barefoot on the cold linoleum, sunlight dappling the yellow walls, purple clover sprouting in the backyard.

my father died in that house.

we don't talk about it much- it is the family secret, the shell and the kernel, the phantom in the crypt.

the silence shrouds us every may.

last night, i was back in that house standing at the bay window watching the fireflies light up the grass as my father walked up the path.

all the words i could not say for the past twelve years were ripped out of my chest as he put his key in the lock and turned the knob.

"don't worry," my mother said to me, "he's just visiting."

Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

first 5 faceless emojis are how your summers gonna go