unfolded

I stand in the doorway

between my cozy kitchen and

back balcony;

door wide open,

rain pouring,

wind blowing. 

I stand there:

the sound, the smell,

the cool air that is a

rainy autumn afternoon

drifting into the house,

into me.

My arms are open on either side of the

wooden door frame,

not gathered into myself but

completely unfolded.

I stand there,

breathing deeply everything.

I watch as a man runs from the

building behind

my apartment-home to

his car.

He holds paperwork over his head.

And my inside laughs.

“Isn’t the human head

created better to withstand this

onslaught than

paper is?”

The rain lightens and then

stops.

I stand there a moment longer before

retreating back into my abode,

spell broken.

I make my way to my plushy,

slightly-stained couch;

the one so-loved and still-pillowless.

Between writing words I sip from a

hot mug and let the

bitter liquid run over my

tongue. 

Water runs through the

filter in the aquarium

across the room and

it sounds almost like

the noise you hear whenever something

magical happens in an

old movie.

I think of the rain and

how I stood and

how hard and beautiful

it is to be

unfolded.

Because the wind could change and

rain could fly into my face or

thunder could come so strong and

shake my little balcony and

my little being, so small and

feeling-insignificant.

But if I wasn’t open,

I wouldn’t have felt the breeze,

smelled the air,

heard the magic.

If I hadn’t opened the door,

I wouldn’t have known the beauty.

~ Rachel J.