Today was the day his extension ran out. Today is the day he takes what he can carry and moves to Queens, to sleep on a sofa and live out of a bag for a month, to try to find a job, to learn to stand on his own feet finally. I don't know how i managed to be hard enough to make him go, and i know he was counting on me to give in.

But i didn't, and didn't expect it when i rounded the corner walking away from the bus station and found tears. I'd put so much energy into this. Everyone but him agreed that it was best for us both. But still - half the songs in my head are ones he introduced me to. This monitor was inherited from his parents. There's a box in the pantry with half of the goodbye cake they gave him at his last day at work. I expect to find him around the corner, sulking, smoking, sitting. But i won't.

And when i visit my friends in New York: how can i countenance not saying hello? I told him (and i meant it) that we're family now, part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time, i'm not giving up because i can't, and like a wayward brother he causes pain and triumphs but is not abandoned. Not in my world anyway. That's my family.

Anyway, the tears cleared up and i'm sitting here, waiting for the freedom to open me out, to descend, or to rise.