“What My Family Once Was” When I think of what my family was once, I get this ache in the pit of my stomach and my chest tightens gradually. I don’t know whether it’s because my heart yearns for something that isn’t there or it’s the fear that it doesn’t remember what once was there, perhaps it’s both. My eyes begin to water and my throat begins to close up as I try to process this feeling that I’ve harbored over the past 3 years. It feels like I’ve been yelling for hours, but not a sound escapes my lips. I am still unsure of it all. These feelings that have manifested over these years change very frequently. It’s almost like I’m a chameleon, a confused and lost chameleon. So, I turn to everything I can make sense of to help me feel sane, because I can’t ever make sense of something I can’t control, my situation. I know, it’s selfish. It’s selfish to try and tell my mother not to leave despite all she’s gone through with my dad and I know it’s selfish to ask my dad to forgive her just so she can stay one more day, one more hour, one more minute. In my arms, in my sight, and most importantly in my heart. I know it’s selfish to ask this just so I don’t have to remember what my mother’s hair smells like when she holds me. Just so I can stop trying to keep myself from crying when she looks so happy to see me for the first time in months. Just so I can hear her voice for one last time before the sun goes down and the night strips the day of all its false promises that everything will be okay. I know. I am selfish beneath it all. Beneath the smiles I gave my mom when I told her I was happy that she was getting married. Beneath the comfort and relief I expressed when my dad told me that the divorce papers were finalized. Beneath the joy I show when I am at church when my soul and my heart feels like it’s on fire seeing all those families together. Beneath the feeling of trying to fit in with my cousin and their family when they take me on Sundays, and I act as if I’m not about to be torn apart by the seams because all I can feel is despair, and the grief of what my family once was.

When I think about what my family used to be, I feel a deep sadness and my chest feels tight. I don't know if it's because I miss something that's gone or I'm afraid I've forgotten it, maybe both. My eyes start to tear up and my throat feels like it's closing as I try to understand this feeling I've had for 3 years. It feels like I've been shouting for hours, but no sound comes out. I'm still not sure about any of it. These feelings change often over the years. It's like I'm a chameleon, confused and lost. So, I turn to anything that makes sense to help me feel normal, because I can't understand what I can't control, my situation. I know, it's selfish. It's selfish to ask my mom not to leave despite everything with my dad, and I know it's selfish to ask my dad to forgive her just so she can stay a little longer. In my arms, in my sight, and especially in my heart. I know it's selfish to want this just so I don't have to remember my mom's scent when she hugs me. Just so I can stop myself from crying when she looks happy to see me after months. Just so I can hear her voice one last time before night falls and takes away the day's false promises. I know. I am selfish deep down. Underneath the smiles I gave my mom when I said I was happy she was getting married. Underneath the comfort I showed when my dad said the divorce was final. Underneath the joy I show at church when my heart feels like it's burning seeing all those families together. Underneath the feeling of trying to fit in with my cousin's family on Sundays, acting like I'm not falling apart inside because all I feel is despair and the grief of what my family used to be.