Third From Ground Step

It can be determined that each molecule of me will never reside in the same space and time as once before. So, every place I’ve ever been I will never precisely step to again. I certainly have been in places I do not wish to once more. Like crying on my bedroom floor or crawling down creaky boards. Like clockwork, I moused myself down each step careful with breath. So young, it partially felt like playing pretend. At my age, kids did not shy from playing secret spy which left me uncovering classified information and lies. My bottom sliding over every curved lip of wood. Foot, foot, hand, hand Close attention to shifting weight on uneasy steps My mission consisting of lowering my crouched body over the ridge, again and again til I reached my destination of the third from ground step. Peacefully perched I sat and did what spies do best, Hiding anything more than a hint of a potentially compromising fit. It wasn’t hard to hear from the other side of the wall. Hell, I could hear it from up the stairs and around the hall. I don’t remember the tears, screams, or hours I spent on my ledge, Somewhere they’re hidden in a little nook, safe in the back of my head. But in the space among their perpendicular pair In the subtle chasm between them I feel the tension brought on by the presence of destructive and defining words exchanged before bed. Though I do remember, through a sorrowed, strained voice, “So what? Are we just going to wait til the kids graduate college and divorce?!” Was definitely said. I struggle to find places that I will never return Places that provoke emotion worth being recited and read. It can be determined that each molecule of me will never reside in the same space and time as once before. So, every place I’ve ever been I will never precisely step to again. However, I never want to find even one of my molecules sitting there, night after night, hearing their devastation, after their complete desolation, ever again.