Adulthood by Sarah Stivens
Adulthood
I read somewhere when you become an adult, you should text your mum instead of googling every
mundane life question and that way she’ll forgive you for your teenage abandonment
I don’t know if questions about leftover chicken or the colour of my excrement are my mother’s
love language but she never says any differently.
I read somewhere when you become an adult, grief is a process but I can only grieve with my hands and they are tired now
Somewhere in the house there’s half a scarf I started knitting on the day you left I started sewing
buttons on the places where I dropped stitches but there were too many so I just stopped
There’s a discarded craft project for every funeral speech I’ve given because I can only grieve
with my hands and they are tired now.
I read somewhere when you become an adult, you should really get to know yourself but how can you
know yourself if you’re made of apologies?
Once a massage therapist told me my trapezius felt like bone and the relaxation massage I
booked would probably feel remedial and I think that’s adult life, really
Some people wish for wealth I wish for softened shoulders.
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