Come now the flood

Come now the


for you

have no idea

how long


can hold my breath.

Around this time last year, I wrote Tyler Knott Gregson’s poem into a letter to a dear friend. I feel that in the months since then, the flood came, and even I didn’t realize how long I could hold my breath.

Keeping with the flood metaphor, my head is above water and I am breathing deeply. There’s damage under the waters, but that can be repaired.

Yesterday, he wanted to “come home.” At the end of the day, he was back in Garden City, with my encouragement to keep trying. I truly wish him the best, and I know that the best is not here.

1 Comment

  1. He. Chose. This.


    And you believed him. He wasn’t expecting that.

    You are finally allowed to just focus on you, yourself, and your well-being.

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