It’s been a month of important dates – birthdays and anniversaries, culminating in a family reunion. With my mother and her twin turning 70, and my brother turning 40, our families got together for the first time in a decade. In ten years, we lost one and gained nine, bringing our number up to 25.
After two nights eating, sleeping, cooking, laughing, crying and reminiscing under one roof, we all dispersed back to our busy lives. Months of planning and, suddenly, there’s nothing left but a sensory impression of what was…
There is something non-linear about reunion.
As if all the parts, once removed, don’t reassemble how they were.
You’re home and yet, you don’t quite know your place.
There’s a bending of reality.
A girl pointing the finger.
Where do we start?
There’s many a slip in our perception
Of What Once Was versus What Is.
Memories playing tricks.
What we thought was locked in the museum
Is there a passage secret to
The way that we diminish and ascend?
We fetch the ghosts of our past
But find ourselves washed up
East of the mulberry tree.
Plastic people, in a plastic world.
We laugh and, under a shared weight, ask
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