How can I leave you when you look so beautiful? You slept defiantly; twitching your nose at the dawn that broke harshly over the black skeleton trees like a fumbled wine glass, spilling a pink champagne sky over limbs left bare by winter’s approaching chill. Today though, winter’s chill stands no chance against the chill in my heart. I have to leave you today and I don’t want to. It’s hard to leave your warmth for uncertainty; hard to leave your understanding for culture-shock; hard to leave familiarity for uncertainty.
How could this be? I’m Kyle Latrell Scott: The one who dreamt longingly to disappear to the Pacific Northwest, nothing but street-smarts and a trifle more than pocket change to make it through. Was I lying? Was I worried? Not even… I didn’t have anything to miss. Only some family, unyielding in their own ways, unwavering in personal ideals. Family rooted as deeply into this Ozark soil like an old oak. I had nothing to grow with; nothing to learn from or profess to.
Now I have it all—a connection—an anchor. Not one that holds me down, but one that keeps me close because that’s the job of an anchor. Safety. Security. Reference.
Not a moment will pass that I don’t think about you. If this trip wasn’t so uncertain in the first place, you would be right there next to me. If there is a next time, you WILL be right there next to me. Little do you know, you will be there with me. I carry you everywhere I go, because your sunshine drove away the little rain cloud that hung over my head for so long, and that is something that I could never go back to. Miss me, baby. I’ll miss you.
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