change

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CHANGE by Jada Campbell

I. It’s when you stop scratching old wounds and finally put on the antiseptic. It’s when you rip of the sticker but there’s still bits that cling and your fingers are as red as your tongue from clashing with your teeth. (Both, I guess, are equally thrilling.) II. It’s love, I think. It’s the best kind of love. The best kind of story, too. (For what kind of plot describes something that just is?) III. It’s when you can breathe again, and the cold air sings an aria as it dances on your windpipes. It’s when you can look at your baby pictures with the same fondness as the empty page in front of you. (Maybe it’s relief to you, knowing the eye of the hurricane holds as much energy as a firecracker.)