1st Edition
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  • Writer's pictureA.Y. Greyson

Moving from Dallas,TX to NYC

A sentence after the semicolon that has been the first half of my life. Its been six long years since my mother died, and five years since I started the book as a response to such a loss that to this very second still hurts beyond words. And I wonder now if I'll ever overcome this pain. Yes some days are better than others. But tonight is not one of those nights. I feel despair beyond tears, and my souls aches in places that cannot be touched, as I understand I will never see her again. Never talk to her, never hear her voice. She really is gone, and I have to continue figuring everything out by myself.

But I suppose most of us are in that predicament of being faced with so many unanswered questions. Of living life just one day at a time, waiting until the storm passes.

I suppose that's why I'm really looking towards this move. I need a change of setting. I out grew this state a long time ago, as we all at some point out grow our spaces. But obligations kept me here beyond expiration.

But no more, I refuse to do it anymore. The book is done, so there is nothing left for me in these prairies. Not people, not work, not family. It really is all over with. I've said my good byes, and made my peace, knowing I'll be leaving my mother 1,600 miles behind beneath the dry Texas soil. I doubt I'll ever come back, too much pain is tied to these streets, these trees, everything thing I know is no longer the same. I've grown to dislike everything. Which is never a good thing. So it's best I go before it turns to hate. And that's never a good place to be either. Maybe in another five years, I won't be so disgusted by the entire experience, and know I have grown from it, that it made me stronger. Maybe. Just maybe. I hope.

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