remembering to breathe

right now im feeling sad in a want-to-cry sort of way

but im so done crying

right now im wondering why you didnt want to come over for dinner

right now the weight of the future is in my bones

and im finding it hard to breathe

right now is the time of night i regret not calling my grandmother

regret not telling her i love her one more time

while she still remembers my voice.

right now im wondering if youre thinking about me

but i feel like youre not

right now i feel kind of selfish

i guess crying is my release

i guess crying is when i remember to breathe

right now i need a hug

not from just anyone.

maybe from my mom because i know she means it.

maybe from my mom because i know she'll never let go.

what if she never lets go.

right now im remembering to breathe.

right now im remembering to breathe.

ten years

I was ten years old. 

I was ten years old baking snicker doodles in a one-time cooking class trying to find a hobby. My mom picked me up in so much pain that she was already on her way to the hospital. She was on her way to the hospital but she couldn't forget to pick up her baby. 

She was driving down north county boulevard and pulled over as she could no longer drive. We called my brother who was still 15 years old to come drive mom to the hospital. 

I remember our car parked on the side of the road. I remember my mom going into shock, freezing in an unnatural position. I remember that helpless feeling. I remember crying and jumping up and down outside the car. I remember a lady pulling over because she thought I was flagging her down. I remember there being nothing she could do. 

I don't remember the rest.

I honestly don't. 

I remember an emergency waiting room. I remember being afraid for my mom. 

I remember that feeling in my stomach I still get when I think about ever losing someone close to me. 

Because when you're ten years old you think you could lose your mom to a kidney stone. 

But she'll still pick you up from your cooking class, you can count on that. 

hello again