I am in the deep, slipping among the velvety green slick stones. She taps my shoulder, her fingernails like silvery half moons: tap tap tap. I feel the shift from sleep, down here in the murky dream waters, to up there, where she is. Tap tap tap. I roll over.
“Mama, we need milk.”
A prayer on my fluttering eye lids, a plea to wake and move and be solid. I want to be solid and present for them. I tell the sheets, my bed, the window, the God who hears, he hears right? doesn’t he hear? that I need strength and I need peace and I need wisdom. I wait for them to drop on me like a sure curtain of substance.
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