"before i go"

i fell asleep in my coconut bath with my walkman propped precariously in the soapdish listening to the king for a day tape that boy made for me before i moved. my feet, bright red from the hot water, resting, toes curled, on the faucet, feeling the water drip out and around my heel every few seconds. elbows, chilly, propped delightfully on either side of the tub. hands threaded together on my sternum, pulsing lightly to my heartbeat and the music, slightly pruned. the taste of cranberry-grape juice lingered in that i never want to drink anything else kind of way.

my eyes weighted, shutting, and finally allowed to close to the music i remember.

i had a dream that i was telling my children about him. i had a dream that i was brilliant again. i had a dream that i was smiling.

then i woke up, of course. it always ends like that. stories that feel good because they change something inside of your head ... change the sadness, change the movement, change the delicate situation ... whatever it may be. you always have to wake up and wait. wait to see if you remember, wait and see if one day you remember something other than the pain.