I sat in the corner crook of our living room couch, quietly interacting with my busy family in relaxed, easy-going tones. Mindlessly, I laid my head to the left and found myself looking into the eyes of my son. I let myself linger on the photograph, as his smile cracked into the mundane moment.
Suddenly, I felt the chill of a scream – I could actually hear it from within me, “Oh my God!” The panicky words rang through my mind. “He’s gone! Oh my God, he’s gone!”
I could feel my heart thudding in a quickened, choppy pattern as my neck and chest flushed with the release of epinephrine. My soft tummy muscles clenched as a sour taste pricked in my mouth.
I hadn’t forgotten – that we was gone – it had simply been awhile since I remembered – since I’ve been, here, in this place… I can’t possibly live in this moment forever – this place of excruciating clarity, so I don’t – live here. I’ve wanted to, and I’ve not wanted to… But regardless of my desires, I just can’t. So I don’t… Somehow I’ve been moving through this world without living in this place pulsing with voiceless screams.
But then I turn a corner and I realize that ‘this world’ I’ve been navigating, is in fact, a grotesque house of mirrors, and I’m staring at MY CHILD trapped beneath glass – Graham, real and not real, lost but right where I left him.
I share space with the echoes of my own misery, shadows that move through me and vomit that oozes from me.
I don’t live here. It lives within me.