This is it. I am it. You are it. He is it. She is it. We are it. That is it. It is it. This, right now, this screen in front of me, this cold tea, this dryer flip flip flipping towels, all of this indecision, this waiting for revelation, this is it.
This school where I work, this crosswalk, this French class, this study hall, this game of paper football that I cannot stop, this new snail in the fish tank, this research paper I assigned, this girl with a 52, this boy sleeping in the back, this parent who just doesn’t know, this kid with a bloody lip, this microwave with a black crusty disease, this question you are asking me right now, this issue that was sort of addressed but not really, this elephant in the room, this pre-algebra homework, this Check Engine light, this pressure from public radio, this rent check, this cracked windshield, this empty recycling bin, this junk mail, this sink full of dishes from last night’s soiree, this smell of bleach, this ravenous cat, this unknown phone number, this illusion that there are obstacles, this one thing that I can’t quite understand, this restlessness, this love.