These cool sheets warm beneath my weight. They form a woven net of fibres to hold what my mind begs to release. And the act of letting go to these sheets lets breath climb to a place I have not let it go throughout this day.
I neither buried nor denied the aches or joys of the day, in fact I stored them for just this moment; When I could sift through my memory of how that song made me remember my wedding night, or how I once made a crown with the flowers I saw growing in the ditch with a woman who’s child died at age 5. I let a boat trailer my dad used to carry behind our ’78 Buick swerve in and out of my thoughts as I watched another newer version bounce up and down going down a poorly paved road.
I gathered these moments; some reminders of the bad dreams of loss and some the reminders of gifts that were given and received. And it took me awhile to find the gifts of today, while I spent stirring the memories of yesterday. But in all honesty, I trust today will surface again, maybe presumptuously, but I do; if not tomorrow then in a year or two from now. That’s just how I work anyways. Because today I have released my weight to the sheets beneath, and as long as the sheets warm to my form, tomorrow will have another memory to store.