i finally took off the heavy coat
i didn’t realize I was wearing.
the air in the hallway is colder now,
but it belongs to me.

for a long time, the walls felt close,
as if the furniture had been arranged
by someone else’s quiet rules,
leaving no room to take up space.
i used to walk on my toes,
apologizing to the floorboards.

but yesterday I bought the wrong kind of bread
just because I wanted to try it.
i left the dishes in the sink until morning,
and the sky didn’t fall.

it turns out my voice sounds different
when it isn’t trying to soften the corners
or guess the weather in another room.

i am re-learning the shape of an afternoon
that doesn’t require an explanation.
just a quiet house,
a key that only turns one way,
and the strange, sweet habit
of remembering who I am.