i’m losing my own past. i’m walking over a bridge, and with each step i take, another plank behind me falls into the river. there is no return for me. be it better or worse, i can only keep moving forward.
when my child takes his nap, he often needs the comfort of my presence in order to sleep. so when he cries, i crawl into bed next to him and roll him onto my chest. he presses his warm little body against mine, curls his head over my heart and listens to his first home, the heartbeat he’s known before even entering the world, and quickly falls asleep. and the 