pieces

I think about you every day.

The day you died. That last time I felt you move. My sister’s house, the shirt I was wearing, the wheelchair ride up to the maternity ward.

The day you were born. Crying, crying, crying. Holding the featherlight bundle that was you.

Every day I remember these things. Every day.

Every night I glance up to your portrait on M’s wardrobe. I kiss her cheek three times. Mama te quiere. Mommy te quiere. Y Baby Joseph te quiere.

I may not write much, but I think about you every day.

 

Today, I have a piece up on Glow.

 

© Burning Eye

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