reassurance-to-sierra-in-high-school

Don’t worry. The acne will go away, sort of.

You will stop fighting with your sisters when they go
to college. This will be because of two things: your inability

to steal their clothing and the realization
that they are older, cooler versions of you. Your bully
will end up shaving her head and going to jail

or she will become a lawyer and have a nice car
and six babies. You will have no idea. You will forget
what she looks like, remember her the way

one remembers a splinter. You will stop
loving sharp things. You will learn how to make
your bed without being forced or threatened.

You will break up with your high school
sweetheart. I know, this is a surprise
but trust me. It is the right thing.

Yes, he loves you but it is a smothering love,
the way a dog nurses an open wound, all bared teeth
and tongues. When you leave him,

it will not feel like crushing a light bulb
in your hand — more like slowly, so slowly,
removing glass from inside your palm.

For years after him, you will let your heart
hang open like a soup kitchen. This is not
a bad thing, more a lesson in proportions.

After graduation, you will change a hundred
times over, like a revolving door, a waterfall.
One day, you will learn how to give

and receive love like an open window
and it will feel like summer every day.
One day, everything will make sense.

—  Sierra DeMulder, “Reassurance to Sierra in High School”
One day, you will learn to give and receive love like an open window, and it will feel like summer every day.
— 

Sierra DeMulder

I remember when I heard her say this my sophomore year of high school, and I thought it was so beautiful, but laughably unattainable.

Three years later, today, I am happy to tell you that it is below zero in Minnesota, but it does feel like summer. Every day.