Still Missing

by Chevy Stevens

If I were to get all deep on you, I could say the idea of all those broken pieces being made into something so damn pretty appeals to me. Good thing I’m not that profound.

I need to allow for the possibility I won’t always feel the way I do now, and it’s important to take note of small signs of progress, no matter how insignificant they may seem.

You can be as happy as you’ve ever been in your life, and shit is still going to happen.

Affection from Mom always seemed an afterthought on her part, unless it was given as a reward, which always left me feeling manipulated and angry at myself for wanting her warmth so much.

My grief is a windstorm. Sometimes I can stand straight up in it, and when I’m angry, I can lean into it and dare it to blow me over. But other times I need to hunker down, tuck around myself, and let it pummel my back. Lately, I’ve been in hunker-down mode.