Sigh

Breathe in, breathe out.

I sigh. Often. So often that people comment on it. What's wrong? they ask, often annoyed. Nothing, I reply, just breathing. To me a sigh is cleansing- I take a deep breath in, and let it out. When I start to feel intense feelings of sadness or guilt creeping up, my breathing starts to get short and quick. My breath gets caught in my throat and I can feel my heart starting to race. As my nervous system starts to go into overdrive I feel on edge, or panicked even. So I return to the sigh as a way to slow my breathing and return to calm.

Breathe in. I breathe in your smell from your clothes as I slowly start the painful task of packing your things. The insides of hoods are the best, for they have had the chance to grab hold of that sweet top-of-the-head smell best. A mix of Johnson's shampoo, coconut oil and your own magic little scent. I breathe in the tender memories that flood my head when I find your swim trunks, still smelling faintly like chlorine. I breathe in the love that was exchanged in your room, in this house. So thick that when I breathe deeply enough, it coats the inside of my lungs and lingers there. I breathe all the little bits of you that stayed when you left. Things, feelings, and right now memories of late night feedings in that glider in the corner. Breathing in slowly as I imagine gliding with you now.

Hold. I hold my breath and listen to the familiar sounds of your room, imagining your voice over the buzz of traffic outside. I hold my breath and hug your snowsuit close, remembering how your little body felt tucked into it. I hold my breath to stop time, stealing a moment to try and understand what has happened before I take my next breath and realize the world is still turning. I hold my breath to stop the next one from coming too soon, starting before I am ready. Hold ON, I think. Everything is changing so quickly. I can't keep up.

Breathe out. I breathe out the whys, the what ifs, the could haves, the should haves. I breathe out the self pity, the thought that I was not a good enough mother, the feelings of guilt. I breathe out the anger, the jealousy, the fear. I breathe out the sadness, the loneliness, the sadness. I breathe these things out, hard, so they are pushed out far enough to be breathed back in. Sometimes they sneak back in, sometimes I don't breathe out hard enough. I hold back the love and all the good CAIUS I have inside me, buried so deep that it will never get out. Sigh. Breathe in. Breathe out.


Chantal