Awake

She arose so tired of this feeling

No reason for anxiety to live inside, life is manageable, right? As they, all say.

It’s an overwhelming feeling driven by never reaching a finish line. Never being able to let go. Never finishing the ride.

Every Saturday morning, mom would rush off to a part time job and he would, I can’t remember. All I remember is we would ride. Riding our bikes down this one hill. I can still feel the sun. The brush of my jogging suit across my legs, the breeze. Not cold or hot. Just there.

I never knew how the morning progressed to that point. I wonder if I’m suppressing in an effort to get to the good part or the change.

The remaining memories are disjointed and unorganized. There was a fall. A skinned knee. Mom coming home. Us in a car under discussion of changes. Me not caring. And then we were gone.

So many missing pieces and confused pieces.

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