once a year

on this day, my body remembers.

my body recalls the pain,

the pain of losing something so familiar but similarly unknown

i grieve what my body told me i was supposed to be,

who i was supposed to become that summer and the many decades that followed

i grieve the judgment that came with it,

the frowns, the disappointment, and the fear

and i grieve it because all of it reminds me of you

a lot of songs remind me of you

a lot of memories remind me of you

i wish people would stop telling me there wasn’t a you

because there was, as minuscule and as nothingness you were

you were an idea, a plan, a story

and all of that expired, that one day of that one year

so once a year i let the pain flow through me

i let it pour, but only a little because i’m supposed to be okay

as the days continue on, i watch the little droplets transform into thunderstorms

then smaller showers, and into to even smaller drizzles

but again, once a year i let it storm

because my body remembers

and when the grocery stores fill with cheesy cards and flowers,

i smile

because for someone, somewhere

their once a year transformed into something beautiful

happy mother’s day