see, my chest doesn’t hurt yet

let me tell you a secret —

sometimes i think this might all be a bad dream.

every now and then,

when the world is quiet enough,

when the sun creeps past the door frame

and the light lands in the room

exactly the way it did back then,

i feel like a child again.

not the kind people mean

when they say they miss being young.

not the warm kind.

the kind that wakes up in the middle of the night

with a heart already racing,

like it knows something

the rest of me hasn’t learned yet.

sometimes i wish i could find

the place where time is weakest,

the seam in it,

the thin spot where it bends

without breaking.

i want to pull it open

with both hands

and fall back through.

i wake up on the big couch.

the tv is on,

volume turned low

so it won’t overpower the sounds of my dreams.

the laugh track comes and goes

like it’s breathing for the room.

i’m next to Shirlean,

where i crawled after nightmares

before i knew how to explain them.

she doesn’t ask what happened.

she never asks.

she just lifts the blanket

without looking at me

and lets me slide underneath

like i was always supposed to be there.

it’s summer.

the balcony door is open

just enough

to let the night creep into the kitchen.

the house moves with the wind.

it always does.

it’s built on unsolid ground —

memories,

love,

things nobody knew how to keep from shifting.

it’s a little crooked.

always has been.

the floors lean

just enough to notice

if you’re paying attention.

but nothing falls.

nothing breaks.

Shirlean doesn’t move.

she just pulls the blanket higher

like she knows

this is all i need.

she knows i’m fine

before i do.

this is the moment i want back.

this exact one.

the tv still on.

the night still outside.

the house still holding together

even though it shouldn’t.

see, the door is open.

see, the wind is soft.

see, nobody is yelling.

see, my chest doesn’t hurt yet.

see?

if i could find the place where time is weakest

i would tear it open with my hands

and crawl back through it

every night

until the dream lets me stay.