Somewhere someone waits up for you. Somewhere someone takes their phone off silent with the hopes of catching your call. Somewhere a roomful of people plan for your return. Somewhere an audience waits to applaud you, is applauding you, will applaud you for your rest of your life. And I know you swear you're no heart-stopping beauty queen but the ones who love you still look for you first in a crowded room. Still watch you, eagerly waiting for your eyes to light up with the next poem you’ll recite. Or for the smile that tells them you're okay after all. This is your fame. This is your legacy. You were loved in this world if only for a moment. And now you're starting to forget. Back then, you imagined your life as a series of miracles and you waited for it to all happen to you. But your heart caught up with the world and stopped dreaming so big. Or so loud. And you folded yourself away and never told anyone how scared you were of everything. and you thought, this is it. This is the rest of my life. I’ll live on the sidelines of love and I'll laugh at the right parts of the story. And it worked for a while, but you knew it couldn’t last. You, expert daydreamer. you, hopeless romantic. You who once fed the birds on the stoop, knowing it would make their flight a little easier. You, who kept the light on because it helped your best friend sleep. You who smiled at the cashier like you meant it, because you did mean it. You who led the river home. You who the sky stared back at. You who the moon followed. You are not as insignificant as you think nor are your fears as large. Someday you will turn the tea kettle on, you will open the windows, you will breathe deeply and you will move forward. You will thank the ordinary things for bringing you back to the miracle of yourself. And you will waver and see a flicker of the dark calling you back and maybe you will get lost in it. But you will be found again and found again and found again.