Sometimes when I am washing the dishes
I cry
It is the one and almost only time I have to completely stop in one spot
Without a phone or a person to fill the silence
I hear everything
I see everything
My slow, heavy tears fall through my hands and into the soapy water
As I picture her buttoning up the back of my white dress
As the flash of photographers blends into the soft glow of light through the curtains behind me
As I feel her laugh under her breath and into my back because she is nervous and can’t quite find the right way to align the right button with the right loop
As I look up to find my sister’s eyes watching on the same way I did when it was her day
I can smell her
And the slow heavy tears become light and frequent
As my body folds in half over the stainless steel sink
The weight of my chest finding gravity
I hear everything
I see everything
I hold the edge of the kitchen bench in my pulsing hands
As I picture her holding them
Through the cold frame of a hospital bed while I lay waiting to meet my babies
As I picture her holding them
As I imagine her sitting next to me on the couch in my living room in the early hours of the morning between feeds and sleep windows
Talking to keep me awake, close and quiet enough that I fall asleep deeply when I get the chance
Sometimes when I wash the dishes
I cry
It is the one and almost only time I allow myself to stop completely in one spot and feel the injustice of it all
As the good dissolves into the dishes for a while
