Since October it rained 47 inches here
(in the last 14 days my eyes have rained more).
On day 9 it was a middle of the night collapse:
full sobs and remorse.
I loathed our comfy glider, the room
we’d created for you.
It had become an isolation tank
where we tortured each other
with multiple attempts at painful latches.
On day 15 it was midmorning
and I listened, breath held, at the bottom
of the stairs while he settled in to that glider
and fed you.
There were no screams.
I covered my mouth and sprinted
downstairs, relief thundering through me.
But it was laced
with droplets of grief over the released connection
between you and I.
The weather has cleared recently
(my eyes are getting there…I think).
In a lot of ways, this isn’t easier
but the sum of us
And that’s all that matters.