Haikus / Notes From a Yellow Door

Dear BearVault, 

I think I would like
Different time zones with you
And nice coffee too

I bought a house in Missoula. It is accessible through an alleyway, just off the bike path, near the railroad tracks. It has a yellow door. My favorite flowers are dandelions in all their variations, sunflowers, and ox-eye daisies. I like the weeds, the invasive species, the ones that show up despite harsh winters and rocky cliffs. 

—

I had a small tradition with a boy I used to date. We worked at different areas on the local mountain -- him in the bike shop, and me on the ziplines. We would casually pick some flowers and give them to each other at the end of the day. I pocketed some lovely ox-eye daisies and ferns, and my chest hurt when I handed them to him and he said, “...but, these are weeds.”

—

I think the house is as much mine as it is his, too. We sit on the couch together, the only place there is to sit at current moment. There is no wifi, so I use my hotspot and we kill the data watching live streams. I hope my eclectic mug collection has a place to rest, my chopsticks a place to go besides my backpack. 

I never went on my bike trip, and instead said yes to a job I couldn’t say no to. I didn’t hate it. I love him more than I will love any job, and I know my job will never love me back (even if the students do). While I was away from him, I read the book he lent to me, one of his “required readings.” He will read mine one day, How to Do Nothing. 

I am doubling down on being human, enjoying the placefulness he brings me. 

Like dandelions
Before their suns turn to moons
The crux of almost

Love, 
Osali