I sit here and feel it. I feel the weight of the trauma. 

It pushes like gravity, down to the ground I go. 

I want to stand up and resist. To fight back and the ache of bones, muscle, and drive and push against the weight. 

I want it to just shut off. Just for a second so I could feel weightless, to have the tension and pressure dissipate. So I can just float. To see the happiness and to move freely from restriction. 

I want that for my mom. I want her to be able to float too. The hard and fast truths of my mom's reality are that there is no more vast ocean. No more sea or lake to float in. Carefree is not an option anymore and I hate it. 

I want her, so much, to have a reprieve from it all and yet I also know what that means too. I don't want to see her go. I don't want to let go of her and see her cast her adrift with the current, slipping beneath the surface. She is my Mommy. She is something I wish I could keep forever. 

So here I sit. Waiting for summer but asking that it take its time. That I can cherish these moments and the conversations with her. So here I am, floating in a tub dreaming that it is the lake and that this weight would wash away... 

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