01 02 03 Prone to Wander: 6:17 PM 04 05 15 16 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 31 32 33

6:17 PM

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 She stands in front of the bathroom mirror,
The olive green shaggy rug snug under her bare feet.
Her mouth forms an “O” shape as she swipes the mascara wand
through her left eyelashes, then the right ones.
She purses her lips, slathers them with cherry chapstick.

My colorful handwritten notes, “I love yous” and “I will miss yous”
decorated with hearts and stars and cats and stick people, are
strategically placed between her pharmacy book and apple,
in her bag with “Nurses call the shots,” written in black cursive on the side.

She swallows the last gulp of her coffee and
leans down to give me a hug and a kiss and
I try with all my seven-year-old power to
freeze the moment—with her fresh soap and coffee scent—
so I can hold onto it through the long night ahead.
Anxiety and Hope battling each other fiercely and I wonder,
which one is stronger in me in this very moment. 
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