there is an unwilling and unwitting amount of
comfort found at the same table as your
siblings once you grow older
once the ages add up and with them the
number of living spaces shared between you,
it is realized in words unsaid that you are no
longer on the same plane of existence.
there are so many stories that now go unheard
for lack of shared time and space, so many
outfits unseen and jokes untold because you are simply
not together anymore.
however
there is that one special table at that one
special restaurant that feels like a warm cake
and sweet cinnamon ice cream.
it feels like smiles that had burst wide open
as though they have been held back, waiting until
this moment to reveal themselves— a story
finally told after weeks of “you will never
believe what happened today, I have so much
to tell you next time we see each other”
it feels like forgetting your phone exists, and
even though you have been sitting for nearly
two hours there has not been an extended
moment of silence.
it is here at this table that all whispers of adulthood,
although slowly turning into shouts,
may be muted by the noise-cancelling earplug
that is old men playing live jazz in the corner of the restaurant.
it is here that we may forget that there are now
an hour and at least 30 miles separating us,
because for now, it is only a mere few feet of
shiny dining table wood.
