Space

Dear Space,

Sometimes, I look at you and wonder what you really are. You don’t speak, but you make me feel things — peace, comfort, or even sadness. You hold so many moments that I forget, yet you always remember them.

Are you just a quiet 'brain' who doesn’t move, letting time shape your memories?

Sometimes I think of you like a body. The furniture is food that fills you up. The electricity is like blood, flowing through your walls to keep everything running. You feel empty when nothing is inside you, and full when someone takes care of you--oops not too much otherwise you would get messy and packed.

Sometimes I think of you like a kind person.
You stretch, you bend, you get torn apart. You’re expected to stay strong while people move in and out, changing you again and again. Perhaps I’ve been thinking about this because I've been moving a lot recently — from space to space. Each time I enter, I wonder if you remember who came before me. And each time I leave, I hope I left a good memory behind.

I wonder if you ever feel tired.
You never ask for anything back 🙁
But I wonder — do you wish someone would sit with you, just for a while, and see you for more than your walls? or at least just to feel you?

Yaaa space,
You let me exist inside you, even when I often forget to say thank you.

So, this is me saying thank you.
Thank you for being there. I’m learning to see you more, to appreciate you. I hope I keep noticing the little things.

With wonder,
Me