fourteen ninety-nine 

I took a minute to sit on the porch, looking at the funny colored brick, and reminiscing on the time we threw oranges at the doors and windows. 

I took a minute to look out the windows, thinking about how all those houses have changed. 

I took a minute to lay on my old bed, feeling the softness and warmth of childhood engulf me. 

I took a minute to sit in the bathroom, reminiscing on the time my mom caught me hitting a bong while taking a bath. 

I took a minute in my old room, just standing around at first. I took in the emptiness, how small it seemed. 

I took in the bare gray walls and pictured when they were pink and covered in magazine cut outs. 

I took a seat on the floor, in the same spot I did when I was 13, on that day I wanted to die. 

I took a minute and cried, cried because that poor girl was so sad, cried because as a woman I’m still sad, cried because that day I wanted to die, I didn’t. 

I took a minute to think about Chester, the World’s Greatest Dog, and said thank you to his spirit because he’s the reason I changed my mind that day. 

I took a minute, and I pictured Chester pushing his way through the closed door into my room and to my lap and I picture the knife that I had in my hand and I picture the flood of tears I shed when I realized I couldn’t do it. 

So now I’m taking a minute to picture Chester laying in the hallway outside my door in the mornings, him playing his own one man game by the pool, the way he trotted around the kitchen as we ate. 

So now I want to say:

Thank you, 

Thank you, 

Thank you. 

Thank you to my parents for setting such specific rules for adopting a dog because it got us, no lie, The World’s Greatest Dog.

Thank you to that old bed frame for making me feel like a princess while I slept, for nursing me back to health after my accident, for having enough space under it for Chester to sleep so he didn’t have to jump up. 

Thank you Chester for the best company.

Thank you to the porch for the combo of sunlight and shade, for the funny bricks I’ve always loved, for the comfort it always provided on breezy nights. 

Thank you to the view out the window, for the neighbors who helped raise us. 

Thank you to the bathroom, to the bathtub, my favorite place to hide and cry. 

Thank you to my old room, for keeping my secrets all the years I was afraid to speak, for being a stable, safe space despite my feelings of instability, for the stereo system that played my favorite albums. 

Thank you to my bare walls, for being my first canvas for expression. 

Thank you to the floor for keeping my head above the ground. 

Thank you mom and dad for the best life. 

Thank you fourteen ninety-nine for simply being home.