And...

And is the word I use when the truth won’t fit cleanly.

Family and friends.

I needed both.

I still do.

There were times one carried me

when the other couldn’t,

and I stopped pretending I could choose.

I live with peace and regret.

Not one after the other

at the same time.

Anyone who says otherwise

hasn’t made a decision

that couldn’t be undone.

We were in desperate times,

and I made a hard choice.

That sentence never ends where people expect it to.

I joined the army.

Not because I wanted glory.

Not because I was fearless.

Because something had to be done,

and I was out of softer options.

The uniform didn’t answer questions.

It gave me structure

and took pieces of me I didn’t know how to protect.

I gained discipline

and lost certainty.

I learned how to keep going

and how to stay quiet.

Peace came later.

It didn’t arrive clean.

It brought regret with it -

names, moments, versions of myself

I don’t get back.

I don’t fight that anymore.

Both are true.

Rainy days make sense to me.

The world slows down,

everything gets honest.

Noise softens.

I find joy there,

and something close to peace,

standing in weather that doesn’t rush me.

This is what and means now:

I survived, and I carry it.

I chose, and I question it.

I belong to my family,

and my friends,

and to the person I became

when there was no easy way forward.

The story didn’t end.

It just learned how to breathe

with weight on its chest.

And... I’m still here.

GBS jr

2009