See It Spinning

The steps up to my apartment feel foreign. Like I left for more than a few days, like this is no longer my home and it's wrong to be back. Her apartment seems suddenly like a refuge, like a quiet nook where I am untouchable. Nothing of my own is there. I watch bad television and go to bed on time. The morning route to work is different, so I can pretend I am, too.

The week progresses into a pile of disasters and at every turn I come up short. Everyone seems to be falling to pieces and I carry their despairing shards in plastic bags around the city. Illness ravages my already weak body; she writes and says If you want your old room back, now would be a good time for it. The baby is due any day and I don't know how to not leave the ones I love the most. One week until summer solstice and I see the sky bright pink when I try to sleep. We should not waste this season on rest.

We should not waste this life
on anything but Living.