13 Years

13 years since then. Since Seattle. Since the sun opened up in a way it never had before and never would again.

13 years since the beautiful green and rain dampened mornings.

13 years since I saw a path.

13 years since I was pure, whole, complete, and knew what to do.

13 years since I first had a drink alone.

13 years since I made up my mind.

13 years.

I walked everywhere and hardly slept. I worked, and wrote, and took it all in. I knew I was home, knew Seattle would be home -- or at least would be the way I found a way out. A way home.

I once thought there was a way I could find that clarity again. That my spirit could soar.

13 years since the one, brief opening.

13 years since I chose to try one more time, to give a little more of myself.

13 years since a month turned to two and turned to something from which I could never turn back.

Now 12 years since the darkness crept in, forever clouding the light.

I escaped that first darkness. I thought I did.

Now 9 years since the darkness returned. 8 years since it took over.

Just 6 years ago I realized I'd been robbed of joy. And that marked 7 years since Seattle. Since hope.

One sentence. Three words. Words I wouldn't say. Not out loud.

Instead, I wonder.

13 years ago I could have been pure, earnest, with but one tiny blemish.

13 years ago I might have offered myself as a source of strength to the brown-haired girl I'd known from school.  Or perhaps more eagerly pursued the clearly interested co-worker.

Or just left. To home. To Seattle. To Somewhere.

13 years since Seattle.

13 years since the bright sun. Since the clarity of purpose.

13 years since purity.

13 years since I was whole.

I can trace each minute in my mind, can see each hour pass, can feel my heart race and my spirit sing.

13 years.