my first rain

its my first rain in santiago and im thinking about all my firsts here. my first empanada, my first piscola, first foods, first time saying hello and asking directions in spanish when i get off the plane and im freaking out and the adreneline and fear and sleep loss and missing you are all pumping through me, mixing into something like bravery, something new for me. ive never felt this brave. and other firsts, sleeping in a hostel alone, reading a map, taking the subway, and small things that were once so easy are difficult feats i attack, hungrily, in another language, nonetheless. my first apartment here, my first friends, my first night out, my first clothing purchase, my first full conversation with someone i dont know. and then more painful, more delicate firsts, the ones you dont tell everyone when they ask how you are, because when people ask that theres only a few things they want to hear. that question is such a set up. like the first time you sob, the first time you genuinely feel the loss of your family as you watch a mother smooth back her daughters hair on the subway, a father hold his childs hands, sisters sharing an ice cream in the plaza, the first time you get angry, jealous, bitter at people for having friends, lives, lovers, the first time you lock yourself in the bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror, who are you, youre thinking, who are you, the first time, well not the first time, you question every single move you have made, every choice chosen or not, and wonder how you got here, how youll get out alive, if you are ready for all this, the first time you doubt yourself, really doubt that youre good enough, that you deserve all this, the first time you doubt the people you love, will they really wait for you, and not wait for you, but do they really love you like they say, will they really follow through. the first time you felt redemption, you trusted someone new because you had to, because whether you like it or not, you need people, you have to find new people to need, to rely on, because sometimes you cant do it alone. the first time i realize this it is earth shattering. i cant do this all by myself.
all these firsts, all this newness i was so afraid of is slipping under the rug, under my belt, im filing it all away, to remember in the future when all these firsts seem so far away. but right now i am still in them, my first rain, the most clothes ive worn here in santiago since my arrival a whole month ago, my first whole day spent writing, spent working, my first day where i feel like i have a schedule, a purpose, my first day where i actually think i am going to make it. i talk to my mom on the phone this morning and i dont even get choked up, not even as im writing this, id kill for a cigarette but i dont feel like crying. she says i really hope you can stick it out, and i cut her off, im going to be fine mom. i can do this. and my voice doesnt even shake, for the first time i believe myself when i say it out loud.
today i can breathe better, there arent pangs in my chest, my breath doesnt rattle on the way up. my eyes are clear instead of puffy despite hardly sleeping last night, sometimes my thoughts get the best of me. my brain goes on and on, stories form and lines of poetry make themselves behind my eyes and im finally listening to myself when this happens and getting out of bed and writing it down...because that shit, those words that keep me awake, that i say i will remember when i wake up and never do, are some of the best things ive ever thought, ever written, and so theres a first, im following instinct, im doing things that are hard, that dont make any sense, at the time, im listening to myself, to the core of myself. im finding out a lot about who that girl really is.
its terrifying to do it without you. horrifying. but i can talk about you now without gasping, without shutting down, i can talk about you now, i couldnt even form your name for days. i never would chose to be without you, i wake up and you are the first thing i think about, no matter where my dreams took me, i wake up, and its eye flutter, breathe, light, smell, reaching across the bed, you, you, you and then the rest of it tumbles around, hints of where i am and what time it is. but you, you, you are the first thought, with all these firsts i am realizing how hard it is to be without my best friend. and so these firsts, however painful, are proving to toughen me up. my head is filling with different things in the morning. for example, this morning i woke up a story, this morning i woke up with words, a line, and then you floated in some minutes after that first cat streach across the blankets. you will always be with me, jigsawed into my skin and deep, deep in my heart.
im telling my mom on the phone last night, i knew it would be hard, i just didnt think it would be this hard and this morning, when i wake up warm, and cared for and clear headed and i smell the air coming in from my open window, for a few small small seconds between thinking of you and that hazy where i am morning moment, it smells like california, like ocean beach, like first rain in golden gate park, like rain on your deck, like my apartment on irving, like rain in jackets, like my dogs wet fur, like home. and i am happy, happy walking down these beautiful cobblestone streets, recognizing people and smiling, first glances and first times. the other night the girls and i talk about our first kisses, and afton says, yeah but there are always first kisses, first kisses in new cities, first kisses on monday, first kisses after not seeing someone for a long time. and we are all silent for a few minutes, thinking, and i think about this city and falling in love, and how it felt for me, how it feels for me, how like falling in love, this city is confusing and overwhelming and hurried and scary and beautiful and the moments you begin to feel safe, to feel that love reciprocated are unforgettable, are firsts you remember forever.