Catharsis

Sometimes it feels like anything good is ripped away from me. Be it because of circumstance, life, or my own plain stupidity.

I remember, age 10, moving out of that driveway.

Everything packed up and gone, bar ourselves.

Passing the street and town I knew so well.

Passing the blue door of the Irish lass I spent many a lunchtimes company with.

Time in the car seemed to span an eternity as I looked back, and onward.

It’s like I knew things would never be the same again.