Forgetting those moments that make me who I am. Forgetting the little things; that sunrise, the warmth of your hand, the dimple in your half smile, the feeling when smelling apple cider as you walk into the house. Forgetting how fear felt, how depression and pain, the ache, the dark, the apathy. Not being able to see the leaves twirl in the wind or the anxiety in a two year old
face as she shows you her coloring and hopes you like it. Losing the ability to notice the things a friend doesn’t say, the nonverbal cues, their body English. No longer noticing the lovely way a sentence can be structured, the colors of the sunset, the beauty in chaos and spontaneity. Forgetting how to see the deep beauty in the mountains, forgetting to feel small when looking at the stars. I’m scared of these. I’m scared to grow up and become an adult with my feet firmly on the ground with my head and heart drilled to my skeleton.
I’m scared to forget, to lose, to no longer notice all of these amazing small details that are in this amazing life. Because the little things are the big things, and what will I do if I lose those?