It was four months today, four months since the earth became flat again, and I fell from its edge. I spent much of the day sleeping. I slept like I did when I was first pregnant with you. The flat-out sleep that you cannot resist, the sleep that bounces you out of your ordeals. I surrendered to it. I wanted to stay in it longer than I did. I didn't wake refreshed as one might think would happen. I got up and wandered around the house looking at things. I get mad at things. Things that are always in their place. I want to move these things so that the rooms look different. I want to change the view from what it was when you died four months ago. I want to move the mirrors and rearrange chairs and carpets. I did this the week before you died to get ready for you. Tomorrow is Monday. I used to spend Mondays with you in my belly, it was the only day of the week I had to myself with you. We cleaned and made the things in their spaces look nice. We were arranging the nest I was to bring you into. I would look around and try to decide where your favorite place to be would be. I tried to pick out the calmest places, the places that would help me sooth your cries. I will go to those places now, they do not sooth my cries. Only you can do that Frost. And you don't do this where I pictured you doing it. You spring a calmness on me sometimes when I'm not expecting it, in places I didn't know were perfect.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.
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