Ma doesn't hug me when I'm on the verge of tears or kiss me goodnight she like she used to. I don't think she knows what to do anymore. She's afraid of the human touch. Who can blame her?
I can see why she tenses when I kiss her cheek or hold her hand. She sees him in me
Sometimes so do I.
You can leave your past behind, in the middle of the night with a tear stained goodbye letter but you can't outrun it ; You can't outrun the sound of glass breaking into a thousand shards, the smell of cheap beer- the kind teenagers drink out of those red plastic cups, the feeling of your insides curling up when you hear his angry footsteps... This kind of stuff? It stays with you. For life. The sadness and fear . The dread and anxiety Ma says that someday I will experience love greater than the anger and sadness.
That it'll be like poison ivy healing my wounds.
That it'll grow all over me , a force so big ill drown in it. I want to believe her, I do.
But I know that
if anything bigger than the grief exists...it's depth will kill me.
