Questionably our fall. The Fall of my fall. Our fall?
Today is the last day,
The blinds will be closed.
The coffee runs sour.
The twitch in my eye.
They'll be awake soon. My beating hearts. They are snuggled in their beds, safe from the complexities of the world. I, their shield. “Someday you will ache like I do,” I whisper out to them, wishing that I could curl up to them and be absorbed in their peaceful dreams. “But not today.”
Now, I just got the news my sister is currently rushing her little man to the emergency room per instructions from her family dr. He is only a week old. They don’t prepare you for this shit. And though it is not me going through this, time still stops as we all just hold our breaths as our newest family memeber perhaps is in respiratory distress.
You are my mom. But somewhere along the line I became the nurturer. The unconditional love between us has allowed us to ignore our identities as people and to just fall into these roles that are locked in the guilt and hurt that strikes me at the core.... over and over and over again.