I spent this morning remembering her.
Windows rolled down.

That one song playing on repeat, its haunting lyrics tangling with the wind in my hair.

The open road drawing me out of the city.
I walked our trail.

Red dirt dusting my sandaled feet.

The Sun and the wild soaking deep into the freckled skin she gave me.

Remembering yellow roses scattered and the bittersweet moment of letting go.

Remembering how to breathe through life and the grief that creeps in and the growing older without her.
I sank down into that ground.

Her place…

Nestled under rare, cool shade,

cut through by gently rushing water,

Sparkling with speckles of sunlight.
The memory of her belongs here…

Dust and ashes and spirit in a place wild with peace.
And each time I come back,

I’m brought back to center.

Each I come back,

I remember how to breathe deep again.

I remember the strength, that perfect spark of madness her story bestowed upon mine.


I remember where I came from,

before her world went dark.

Chelsey Whitlow


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