The connections inside me are unhooking themselves while the snow melts. They’re sitting back with a bag of Twizzlers in the lazy boy. They aren’t trying anymore. They’re taking a break, waiting for me to decide. They’re waiting for the day we pack up into boxes again, fill the car and drive away. They’re waiting for the geography to change, the relationships to start all over again. They hate the hooking and unhooking I drag them through, but they try to cope. Some days they take the staff and lead the way. They’ve noticed the shifts in my heart and are preparing themselves ahead of time, months ahead of time.
Spring is coming, and nothing is sure, but detachment is trying to begin.