one of those moments where the deepest places of my heart come boiling forth, like a pot of water forgotten at the stove. unaware of the eruption, until it's overflowing.

turning my head, ever so slowly, to peer back into the hallway behind me. full of doors marked with seasons.

the distance behind so far, the starting point so small, i have to squint my eyes to see it. to remember.

knob after knob, worn from the entrance and the exit. the gold scuffed off. some hinges squeakier than other.

to see behind is to fuel onward motion. 

i will remember Your love.

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