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These days I drift into nostalgia easily
Tugging myself into reality with lists of unfinished tasks
These days my home is quiet. The dog’s matted tail is thumping on the wooden floor next to me as I type.
Dreaming of a chase
I remember sitting in the same room with toy cars and dinosaurs at my feet and making every effort to type without awakening the toddler asleep on my lap
My own legs asleep, tingling. Neck crimped to see around his curls.
Those days I was covered in hands. Grabbing and reaching and needing.
All their arms outstretched to wrap into mine.
Now I am still. It is quiet. And alone is a strange sound I notice and get up to check on.
Asleep and awakening with the fear of forgetting something. Maybe them. Maybe the smell of their skin or the touch of their hands.
I want to remember.
I fall softly again
Into my memory.
