i come back to the same place every single year i reflect on all my past faults condescending as if i ve progressed as soon as i think ive made it and i m in the clear some stranger familiar feeling i regress again and again and again all those pictures on your wall of all the fun you had last fall were you happy in the spring while you were doing the same things 6 am on a cold tuesday 1993 every day i wake up and do it over the same routine if my legs kick just to tread water is it worth the energy and if i can t be a work in progress then just let me sink my mother used to draw lines on the wall to chart my growth shed say you ve become so tall and i believed her then she was always right after all but laying on my bed now i wonder have i grown at all have we lost sight of the forest from the safety of the treetops in time will we find ourselves in time will we belong 