Two days ago, I woke up with a sob, lashes wet with tears. It was only a dream- a nightmare- but my bones are still holding onto the grief, the breath-stopping fear of seeing my sons body dragged from the water. Even now, I don’t want to put the image on paper. Don’t want to shine light on my worst fear, that thing that would undo me completely.

I was late for work today because my son woke up as I was leaving and begged me to stay, to sit by him on the couch just for a little. When I finally left, I pictured explaining to admin that I was late because of a dream. I was late because my son was still alive and I needed to witness his breath. I pictured explaining that I might be late again tomorrow if I find more breath to witness. Won’t be here at all if there isn’t.


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