Every morning, my mom routinely refuses to leave the house without coming up to my room and giving me a kiss on the forehead.
While it is the sweetest and most constant thing that happens every day now, it is also the most sad. I know where the action stems from; she is afraid. She is afraid to not see me again before tomorrow’s forehead kiss.
She’s afraid of unfortunate events, she’s afraid of the things she can’t control, the things she can’t plan for, the things she wakes up in sweats about at dusk.
I thought that my mom would stop fearing death after I beat it, but that’s the thing about death, it doesn’t sit there awaiting it’s occurrence, it haunts the weak in the name of uncertainty.
I feel bad often, not caring or worrying about dying anymore. I can be reckless, unafraid, and even search for a reminder of what it felt like to be in danger. To remember the adrenaline that rushes through veins and capillaries when your heart hurts in desperation.
Fight or flight. Always fighting, sometimes fleeing.
But it’s all wrapped up in a forehead kiss.
Funny how even a kiss is a force of resistance.
Te amo Ma ❤