It All Depends On How

I'd Been Convinced I Was On The Outside, But Really, I'd Always Been Within Arm's Reach. All I Had To Do Was Ask, And I, Too, Would Be Easily Brought Back, Surrounded And Immersed, Finding Myself Safe, Somewhere In Between.

I Just Stood There, Looking At Her. My Head Was Spinning, My Mouth Dry, And All I Could Think About Was That I Wanted To Go Someplace Safe, Someplace I Could Be Alone And Okay, And That This Was Impossible. My Old Life Had Changed And My New One Was Still In Progress, Altering By The Second. There Was Nothing, Nothing To Depend On. And Why Was I Surprised?

I Mean, To Me, Freaking Out Is Different. More Of A Running Away, Not Telling Anyone What's Wrong, Slowly Simmering Until You Burst Kind Of Thing.

And To Know Me, As You Have Discovered, Is To Love Me.

And That Was As Far As He Got Before I Heard It. The Thumping Of Footsteps, Running Up The Lawn Toward Me: It Seemed Like I Could Hear It Through The Grass, Like Leaning Your Ear To A Railroad Track And Feeling The Train Coming, Miles Away. As The Noise Got Closer I Could Hear Ragged Breaths, And Then A Voice. It Was My Mother.