The Tower

I remember this day last year. This Monday. It was the day I missed the appointment that may have possibly saved you. It is the day where all of my guilt returns. It is the day that I will wish I could repeat forever.

I remember this day last year. This Tuesday when we pre-registered at the hospital we hoped to welcome you to the world in. The same hospital that housed our tiny memorial for you. This is the last day I remember excitement and future.

I remember this day last year. This Wednesday when your movements faltered. How we tried to make you move. How your sister called your name on my belly, and we thought we felt you kick. We were satisfied that you were just sleepy. This is the day I learned never to just wait again.

I remember this day last year. This Thursday when I saw you on the screen so different than the image we had watched kicking and wiggling before. Your body had fallen, and I knew before the words. This is the day I saw your Daddy break. He couldn't catch you before your fall. We couldn't soothe your sister's silence.

I remember this day last year. This Friday of your birth. You were brought to my arms still warm from my body. I hoped with everything that you were playing tricks on us from inside. I wanted them to be wrong so badly. You were silent and soft. And you fit into my arms perfectly, but you didn't look up into my face. You never saw my face. This is the day we could not bring you home.

I remember these days. These days ever since. These days spent in this tower. A tower I've built, high up from my hopes. I look down on them and see them scrambling among the fallen leaves, flitting from flower to flower. I see my hopes from these windows. I see them hiding in the snow and dripping from the eaves. I see them and I wonder, "if they are my hopes, why can I not catch them?" and then I answer, "Frost was my hope, that is why." These are the days when my heart has become a wind that I am forever trying to hold.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you