I Wish There Was A Way To Bottle My Memories

We go to work. We come back home. This is our October comfort.

By

Joel Sossa
Joel Sossa
Joel Sossa

California messy.
Sheets pulled aside
like a sleeping tide,
and the yellow sun winks at us
through the blinds.
Backyard citrus trees,
the smell of fresh lemon balm
on a white kitchen counter;
the coffee mug my mouth
comes home to
and the stale molasses cookies
in the cupboard.
We go to work.
We come back home.
This is our October comfort.

Cross-stitched cotton sweaters,
tangerine peels in the trash.
Witches at the front door with freckles
and mummies with a sweet tooth.
Your laundry mixing with mine.
Caterpillars hanging on low branches,
lizards in the cool shade.

I wish there was a way to remember this;
to softly tell myself in my sleep,
‘This is important,
this is so important,
I hope you’re paying attention.’Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Read more by Schuyler here.