It's Just Me

When I created this poetry page, I said from the beginning that the poems I share will be both Lyme-related and non-Lyme-related.  Writing is the one way I'm able to disconnect from all the Lyme & Co craziness that has become my life, and get back in touch with the Becca who graduated college with an English degree and a minor in Creative Writing, and who hand-wrote a 46 page work of fiction in a notebook in 6th grade just because I got bored during Christmas break.  Writing is my escape, the way I best process emotions and thoughts, no matter the topic.  Even if I'm writing an informative piece with scientific Lyme jargon, I'm most in my element when I'm writing, and writing has an innate ability to foster healing in my body and mind--so even though the poem itself isn't Lyme-related, the fact I'm posting it here ultimately is.  I've been slacking on posting poems here so far, but as I sit here at home today in a state of "I miss Neni so much I don't know how my heart can stand it anymore," I realize I have to share this poem I wrote a few months ago.  It's part of a book I eventually am going to write, but who knows when that dream will be fully realized, so for now I'm just going to share the poem.

And for those of you who don't know, "Neni" is (was) my great aunt, my Granddad's sister, who went home to heaven in February of last year, just 4 months and 12 days after my Granddad went home to be with Jesus (I don't think those dates are dates I'll ever forget), and she was a 5th grandparent to me in all ways except the direct biological line.  And this poem is about her.
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It’s just me

Thank you for always letting me know it was just you.

Although that phrase that just doesn’t sit right with me.

Just.

When I think about it, that word has no business there,

and I find myself desperate to see you,

desperate to hug you,

desperate to tell you,

it was never “just” you.



You may have been calling on just a regular Tuesday,

or just to let me know what the show boat television doctor talked about today,

which you wrote down, just in case.

But never in my life was it “just” you.

I wish I could make a list of every extant word with a greater meaning,

and use them to explain how much you mean to me,

but it would just be a futile effort.

Because they are just words,

and wishes are just wishes,

but you are not “just” you--

You never were.

Never will be.



You are the perfectly purple violets that surface for a few weeks before the summer sun dries them out.

Without you, they would just be flowers.

You are the *pop* of a seal being broken on a brand new box of orange tic-tacs.

Without you, they would just be candy.

You are the autumn leaves when they change to such a pretty red color that I hesitate before riding my bike across them.

Without you, they would just be pretty leaves.

You are the comforting warmth surrounding every aspect of freshly baked pumpkin bread.

Without you, it would just be something to eat during the holiday season.

You are the sturdiness of a park bench where two are sitting, one young, one older, hand-in-hand, feeding bread crumbs to the birds.

Without you, it would just be a bench and the birds would just be pigeons.

You are so many things, but never “just” you.



But I get it now.

You always wanted to make sure I was living my life as fully as I could,

you never wanted to interrupt anything important that was going on,

and I wish I had the chance to tell you now,

I was just wasting time on the internet.

It was just a TV show.

It was just a nap.

But it was never “just” you.