Outgrown

Sharpie smudge on the Old House’s kitchen wall

I got in trouble for that one

I didn’t know pencil marks were standard practice

And a few months had passed and I’d gotten so tall

Sunday school clothes given to neighborhood kids

I didn’t really care about that one

A dress I couldn’t fit in wasn’t as cool as the trees

Donations, whatever. I wanted to live

And I guess I did. I thought I’d been present

I watched clocks tick, I counted down time

But I’ve found there’s no budget, no secret that works

You think you saved up, but you spent

I facetimed my childhood dog today

Told myself because of distance, it’s not real

In a deficit of words, but an excess of thoughts

Life, death, universal unfairness of change

I dream of the farms but I’m lying to myself

Those were never truly me at my core

And I wish I could mold myself into what was

But at this point, I don’t think it would help

The clothes, the house, the pets, the life I’ve been shown

I wish I’d better appreciated those ones

I hadn’t known that motion was standard practice

And a few years have passed, and at once it’s outgrown