Ew.
I'm old.
Older.
The last day being the age I am is - the same.
And yet I'm scared.
Funny how one number can make you think about everything that's happened
I only look back longingly,
because I'll never get those years back.
And strange enough I want them back.
I miss them - and as of tomorrow -
I feel I won't be able to get them back at all.
Only in pictures.
I'll be the same me - but with a different number.
But that number I left, all of them, still mean a lot to me.
Each time I leave one - I miss it.
Each time I gain one, I'm scared at what it will bring.
Each time I look ahead - I'm excited-
But when it finally arrives, I shy away from it again.
And yet it manages to stare back at me on a birthday cake.
And I'm forced to face the new age, the new me, head on.
With fire and wax.
And then it falls upon me - like a familiar T-shirt. And I wear it proudly.

When she is born you hold her close. You caress her small, soft head as you put her to sleep. You hold her hands as her small pudgy feet pad across the white carpet. She clings to you fiercely as you urge her onto the bus for her first day of school. Your smile is her only reassurance. When she gets onto a bike without training wheels for the first time, you give her shoulder a squeeze, then grip the back of her seat. You give her a thumbs up and she’s off. You walk with her, then run, still holding onto the seat. You finally let go. She flies down the street, as if you were still holding on. But then she starts to teeter, and her feet can’t keep up with the pedals. She tips over and falls. She gets hurt. It’s not the only time. All you can do is put Band-Aids on her cuts and wipe away her tears. It surprises you when you realize that you're the one crying. Crying as you watch her walk across the stage and accept her diploma. That day, she had to be the one to wipe away your tears. You begin to see her less and less as she pursues her future. She used to never want to let go. But now, your relationship is made up of small gestures. A wave, a hug, a kiss on the cheek, a letter, a card, an email, a text. When you see her again you're lying on a cot, machines beeping and buzzing around you. You thought you might never see her again. You know she didn’t mean to, but she left you behind. But you would never say anything. You would never hold her back. So when she walked into that room, tears streaming down her face, but still smiling, you were content. She stayed by your side all night. Fell asleep holding your hand, head resting on your lap. That was all you needed. Just to see her one last time. You could let go now. You knew she’d be okay, and so would you. You didn’t need to hold her hand anymore, and she didn’t need to hold yours.

When I think of magic
I’m immersed in the swamp behind my home
holding pine trees and an old yellow birch
with mysterious scaly vines
that I used to climb on and become a creature other than human.
The woods where I would be running 
away from what mythical beast would 
be so envious and intrigued by my delicate fairy wings and hysterical joy and rosy cheeks,
the mysticism I held in my smile.
––leaping over the creek, the snap of a branch––
And the runner’s high would kick in
and I would smile and then cry out of fear
and I couldn’t feel my heartbeat and it was as if I was dead or dreaming
but then I felt it again and focused on
running jumping leaping dodging skipping
again.

When I think of magic
It is writing poetry on the college-ruled lines
when subtly my head moves to a melody

When you breathe, breathe in happiness
Thoughts of what you could be if there was peace.
Circle your hand in the water
It goes around forever, it breathes with you.
If you rest, let your whole body rest
Lie back into the waves and let them carry you.
This is life. It is yours and it is peaceful. 
Blow bubbles into the water
And play with what the world has given you
Like a dolphin splashing through the waves
Nothing ends
At the horizon. 
Come back to your roots
The childhood that you once played in
Enjoy that forever.
Feel your toes on the sandy, muddy earth. 
Reach out and smile.
You can always come back
To where you once knew what happiness was.
Dive down under the water.
It is there to hold you when you need it. 
Breathe always, 
Balance carries the world on its shoulders. 
Laugh into the wind
It whips your hair and laughs with you. 

we watch the news and 
fear. 

there are angry tears 
a lot, nowadays. 

being an iranian 
in america is terrifying 
sometimes, 

knowing that both the countries
you are a part of hate each other
poisons you from within, 

my mother prays for the people
who are detained at the border
who share our stories, 

share our features,

share our country.

my father prays for our family,
for all the people left behind,
who share our faces,

share our blood,

share our love. 

i pray for ourselves because 
they taught us what happened during
world war two and

you can love the u.s 

but not trust it. 

i never realized how quickly this country
could change its mind about you, 
but then the travel ban happened, 
and now this, 

my people are not criminals, 

The kid’s name is Thomas, Tom for short. 

I know this, as does the entire grocery store, because he is wandering around, tugging on the sleeves of strangers, and introducing himself as such, cracker crumbs dropping from his mouth. Nobody asked where his mother is, or what he is doing, toddling around by himself, which was surprising, considering he looks just days over five years old. 

It didn’t take long before it was my purse strap he was yanking. 

“My name is Thomas, Tom for short!” he spittles, looking up at me with giant, round eyes. I can almost see my reflection in them. 

“Hello, Tom! My name is Annie.”

“Hi, Annie!” he beams up at me. 

Crouching down, I ask him where his parents are. The smile that was radiating from his face milliseconds ago vanishes in an instant. 

Its January 2, 2020. I never thought I would live to see this day. Not in a ¨I'm gonna die young kinda way¨, but actually conceiving that 2020 is a real year has been a difficult task. It feels like I'm on a precipice, depending on which way I lean my life could change forever. But maybe it will be just another year, one more year of my life, it doesn't sound like much but time moves slowly at the start. It's not like it's anything impressive, lasting till the next decade, but it just astounds me at how fast my life can move sometimes. I coulda sworn it was 2014 like last year.