The body remembered before I did.
Not in sentences.
Not in names.
Not in evidence.
In work boots.
Blue coveralls.
Engine grease.
A sudden sprint from a high school lobby.
My heart arriving home before the rest of me knew why.
At the time, it felt like fear looking for a reason.
Years later, I would call it memory.
Today, I know it was a slow remembering.
Author Statement
Writing is a release, a relief, and has become very therapeutic and empowering. It offers me an opportunity for clarity, and in sharing, an opportunity to use my courage in a way I was not ready for before.
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