The In Between

We moved. The kids are mostly out—college, dorms, group chats I’m not in.
One’s still home. For now.

I was sure it would be devastating. It’s hard and beautiful.
I’m in this floaty, unmoored phase.
Like I took a step and the floor hasn’t shown up yet.

I miss my friends.
The easy kind who knew my coffee order and my bad side.
The kind you can have one too many drinks with and sound stupid .

I plant flowers.
Too many, probably.
Some days I dig because I love it.
Some days I dig because I don’t know what else to do.

My interests are shifting.
I want quiet. And beauty. And something of my own making.
Also maybe a new camera. Or a new haircut.

This in-between space is weird.
Not busy. Not still.
Not sad. Not not sad.

But it’s mine.
And that counts for something.
Especially when the flowers bloom.