Setting In.

It just hit me that I don't have a grandpa anymore.

It all started two days ago, jokingly calling an older friend "Grandpa," when my slightly silly self froze in thought. My mouth leaked the words on my mind gone cold and still, completely vacant of any other thought. "Oh. I don't have a grandpa anymore."

It was one of those, "oh bummer man, this stinks" type of feelings. But seeing as the atmosphere was strong, the cards were gathering condensation, and I was easily distracted, thoughtful chaos moved in on the downer thought's turf. I was smiling in no time.

Adrenaline never does last. I've been quick to crack smiles in the face of loss, throughout ceremonies and handshakes, because it's all I know how to do. It's my most honest form of honor. Yet time goes on, and it gets increasingly harder to go a day without thinking about that laugh, golf on the TV, and a snoring soundtrack. One month is just a long absence, just a trip. As it expires, so does my will to wait for you to walk through the door.

How the hell am I supposed to get through this holiday without you?

I've been so goddamn strong, but I guess everyone has their moments. I kept my brave face because I know my family needed me to be strong. Resilience is a God-given gift, even to such an emotional child.

I don't know what triggered this. All I know is that my hand found the piece of you that I have left in the dark, and I'm holding its loose threads for dear life.

Deep breathing tells me I know what I need to do. Face forward; live for more than myself. Self-start, make a name, and embody every bit of that fighting spirit.

I'll shake a plastic egg open and smile at my family behind a striped red dress, because you'd tell me how beautiful I am, and I'd kiss you on the cheek with a smile. I strive for eyes as loving as yours. I speak for words as honest as yours.

You're the good luck charm of the family, now using it to keep a close eye. I have the greatest team of angels kissing my eyes while I sleep.

Chatter.

I didn't think I'd have time for this today. In fact, I didn't think I'd have time for anything today besides number crunching and cranking out papers and creative projects. Yet the episode loading on a tab to the right and the blankets I'm buried under beg to differ. Happiness is one hell of a motivating factor, and it's hit a record-breaking surplus. Work takes minutes to give hours to watching rain fall and closing my eyes to evade sleep to pleasant thought. Listening to idle chatter and wind patterns is far more serene, anyway.

Talk Circles.

Unhappiness unleashes when I can no longer make a circle of balance. It's the fourth quadrant left, and they're useless, anyway, so I throw them out with no regard for intake. Now I'm here, and my stomach is filled with the ever-presence of missed youth. My generation praises this lack of energy because their activity suggests it could stop any minute. Twenty-five hours ago I felt the sting of spring on bared skin, glowing like the spirit behind my teeth.

One mess, now a second, yet four walls around more bodies drag me from the gloom.

That face I've memorize glows, mouth fixed for response at each cue. Withstanding comedic value, how could I keep my smile from stretching at the sound of your laughter? Need is a dangerous word, but the bravery is worth the pursuit, or lack that I ever saw. I fake sleep behind blissfully restful eyes and unsettled body as I lose all sense to several strands of my hair. Bare shoulders, flannel pants, knots meeting sparrows. The most insignificant contents in life spent limited to a carry-on bag. These stick out like the mornings I used to sleep through.

Could you live your life like this? Breakfast table banter and an ever-present youth. We're growing up with keepsakes in check, the one box I've managed to keep unopened in my state of everything must go. I set out to complain; I set out with a mind for spite and a bad day under my arm. I can't recount your memory, even the most recent, without remembering all the times I'll laughed without explanation. It's never been this easy to live with sunny eyes and a song on my mind. Each listen reminds me what I have to look forward to.

Keeping honest, beginning fades to the incompressible content of recency. Take the un- out of your vocabulary. Unleash happy.

Newborn Sun.

It's getting better with the seasons and the weather. It's getting better, and it's all because of you.

The most consistent state of happiness guards my days. A best friend like a blinding ray of sunshine, shorts to match the same, and my daily dose of blush never so readily conjured. This is more than just the sunshine.

I've never believed in perfect. In fact, I don't believe in perfect. But if I had to find a way to make it attainable, I'd describe it as this: Loving yourself, knowing who your friends are, and not giving a damn about the imperfections reflecting behind the faces of the ones you love. Maybe my bias is shining through, but I think I'm catching a taste of what it's like to need nothing. If my attainable perfect applies, I'm keeping pace with the good life.

I've been standing on a ledge, staring down at water from a manageable height. I've been terrified to dangle a foot over the edge and slide the other to meet it in midair. That innocent absence of anything but air is my biggest fear, yet I'm airborne, speechless, and completely content. No dependence on packaged bravery. With you, I don't even have to work up courage. Meeting you in midair is as easy as your hand empty and mine finding home. I'm safe but hardly settled. Adventure isn't hard to turn up wandering dark, familiar streets lit by the way you sing my favorite songs.

It used to be terrifying to be this certain of what I want, but I'm not shielding my eyes from the newborn sun. I could get used to spending the best of my spring days by your side.

Genuine.

It's been awhile since I've written like this, in more ways than one. By this time, I'm sure my medium has been adapted, bearing focus on the the glaring former mistep, present elation. My most popular concept is silent, swallowed between pages I can't pull apart; not that I've put much effort into fighting their grip.

I'm so far lost that I've found a new home.

Knees to my chest, another hand on mine. These are simple times. Straightforward nature takes refuge behind dark eyes laced with the faintest traces of deep green and copper. Amber, gold, and emerald. First impressions consist of honesty, lighthearted jokes, modified youth, and a trace of vice. It was hard not to let a lack of red lines spin me like a child with a baseball bat. Something noticeably absent and overwhelmed in the pit of my stomach serves curiosity. Necessity causes first contact; electricity keeps it lit. It doesn't take much more than a fixed gaze to save me each time I swing open that hopeful door.

To put it simply, I'd rather dance with everything I've built up as fear.

My eyes never have known what it's like to shine this bright, eager behind lids that escape everything but the way my head fits under your chin. Now your reminder rests on my cheeks just like the color you inspire in them. I don't think I'll ever be immune to that wide-eyed smile. No matter how many threats I issue, you never manage to stay on that list for long. No matter how many times I try to take its rights away, your voice always finds my ears. Even the mundane is exciting when you offer up my favorite laugh. Happiness and confidence find themselves hand in hand when you're around; you are captivating.

Define me a moment and I'll write every word that escapes my momental self.