at the park she climbs up the slide, all of two and a smattering of months. i watch from a couple of feet away as she reaches the top and sits. she glances over her shoulder, tangle of hair in the corner of her smile.
then she’s gone. just like that.
time is a vicious, persistent beast. it laps at our feet, follows us around, it never leaves us alone. there is no reasoning with time. it does not bargin.
in another life, we have a house full of children. she has a big brother and a little sister. we never aborted one, we never lost the other. in another life i never give up writing because it still matters. in another life you do not have to work. you’re not riddled with exhaustion and guilt. in another life we stroll through parks and grassy knolls while the kids run. i make big production of dinners i cook out of cook books whose recipes i never follow and everyone laughs between faces. in another life i sit in a quiet den with wooden shutters and watch the sunrise while you all sleep.
in another life i am everything i could be to my family and to myself. in another life, time doesn’t matter.
i watch my daughter climb up the slide and turn away from me. i watch her go down and disappear. i hear her laugh as she disappears.
tears in the sun, i watch time disappear.