Rosemary Hemmelgarn

I See My Life through Glass

Rosemary Hemmelgarn

i spent four months in bed, tossing and throwing my limbs around as if they were nothing, three months of huddled under the covers, pressed into the corner of the room, skin cold to the touch, fevers high, sick to my stomach, two months of missing my old bedroom where i slept facing the window, watching the stars at night and feeling the sun in the morning, peace surrounded me as i watched the seasons change through the glass for eighteen years of my life, imagining where i would go, the cities i’d live in and the people i’d meet, now i am here, staring at the blank wall that i wish was painted the color of the sunset who grew to be my childhood friend, one month of visiting my old window, one month of laughing, one month of brighter flesh and wider arms and sleeping soundly, a week of reflection into 17 and realization of the chronicles of your early 20s, the glass i pictured my life through is a reality outside my bedroom door, a lightweight dream that crushed me under invisible pressure, a day of hope and getting out of bed at sunrise, an afternoon of aging, enjoying the present for the first time in four months, when i go back to the city i do not linger on the thoughts of the bedroom that is too small for me now, i move my bed to the window and fall asleep with the stars