It's Different Now

It's different now.

Now I hang my towel on the hook next to the shower after I'm done.

I don't need to use the one on the back of the bathroom door anymore.

Sometimes I forget.

Go to hang it up and look around as if someone is watching.

Waiting.

Looking to see what I do.

But I remember.

It's just me. 

It's different in the mornings, too.

Now I don't turn on the coffeemaker until after she's left for school.

No rushing to grab the right grinds while making her lunch.

No confusing dance throughout the kitchen while figuring out breakfast.

I close the door behind me and listen to the silence.

And I remember.

It's just me.

The days are somewhat the same.

I make my calls. Speak to my clients.

I write when I can. When I want to.

I try to write and the words don't come.

But when they do. They really do.

They flow forth and even if nobody is reading - - -

I find a need to say them.

To share them.

It's just me. 

The days have changed some, as well.

There's no real wondering what's for dinner.

There's more cleaning. More clearing. More boxing things up.

More and more and more.

And yet ...

So much less.

Less laundry.

Less mail.

Less.

Simply less.

And still ... more.

More of figuring out who I am.

More of reminding myself of what I need.

More of finding myself again - for who I was surely can't be all that I am.

It's different now.

And I'm different, too.

And I'll always remember.

Different.

The same.

However much may change.

It's just me. 

Me. 

No matter what - I'm still me.

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