If my bones

were robust but hollow

I’d lift my arms up and glide into my memory

and it would feel like the first time

that my limbs swam underwater.

My hips and ankles colliding gently,

a clumsy dance, exhilarating as my heart raced

wherever, however, I’d go find us

so that at 5 years of time and space

the distance between your present and our past

doesn’t leave me empty and wingless and breathless.

Like the day my mother asked me to pack up

to pack up my entire 13 year old life

into plastic bags and cardboard boxes.

I’d wish the wind could carry my whispers into her ears

in that moment she looked at the world with adolescent eyes

beginning to understand life isn’t always fair–

but wait a moment,

you’ll learn to breathe through healthier lungs

you’ll learn to pick up the pieces instead of packing up.

Don’t you ever forget to pick up the memories

even the ones you remembered seated 7 feet high.