Backward Glance

Sometimes I’ll leave my bed and wander around the house, just to pass the time. I’ll stand at the doorway of Levi and Manny’s room, lean my head against their doorjamb, and listen to them breathe. Sometimes I’ll close my eyes and breathe with them. If there was a way to siphon some of that easy sleep, I would.

Tonight, I skip the younger boys’ room, walk past Sarah’s empty room, and see light filtering from under Daniel’s door. I touch my fingers to the door as if to feel my boy on the other side, feel his turmoil, yet all I feel is smooth wood, warm like skin, but unresponsive. I pause, wondering if I should call out to him, but I don’t want him to push me away.

Daniel takes up so much space in my head there’s only tiny bits left for the twins, for Sarah who married a year ago and has a baby on the way, for my husband, Asher, for the things we need to maintain daily living. All I think about is which path got us here. Maybe it was the way I held him as a baby, or the things I’ve said to him in love or anger. Maybe it was the school we sent him to.

I’m sure it’s the last one.