What I Would Have Missed Had I Died Today

And I think nothing much, except for, maybe, my father leaning on a wall (his favorite) holding an empty ceramic cup, (not his favorite) the one with small pink flowers lining the curve of the handle. Maybe I would have missed the distance he traveled everyday from his past to the present; I know this is what he does because the empty cup is a signal for me to stop and not exist, because these minutes are all he has and he doesn't want me in them. So it is you, he said when he turned around finally to face me.

I would have not seen my mother walking down an anonymous street without noticing me. She does not say hello because she is dead and the dead no longer know the living, or which heart they once occupied.

I am certain that I would also have missed that lone bird's journey across a sky that has gone weak with worry for those walking under it.

I would have missed the slow, dry wind and the door creaking open with a message: come out and see how much every flower loves you.

I would have walked past my life without seeing you for the first time. You looked me in the eyes and said: I am never lonely. I believed you and I wanted so much to put my hand on your lap but I didn't because moments, sometimes, exclude us. Even the most honest ones exclude us. It exists for itself; it's selfish that way.

I would have missed that terrible meal I had for lunch: a dead fish staring at me with its one good eye, it's mouth an O that was a balloon flying off to a happier, more consistent alternative.

I would have missed complaining to anyone who would listen how unsatisfied my body is with living.

I would have missed taking my glasses off, then seeing a world where everything is color without form, and therefore, without strife.

I would have missed asking you how you feel, do feel better, do you love me now? I would have missed saying: I am the name from where few return; the name you put between all these self-imposed distances.

I would have missed how my heart caved in, seeing the last green leaf buried inconspicuously in the pavement. I would have missed remembering that under all this hardness is a life that will continue long after I cease to be.

I would have missed the sad sigh of a dream that I remembered suddenly while talking to a strange boy who said he'd like to swim naked in the groove of my mouth.

I would have missed waking up to a dream where I was a potato and someone's hand was carving a smile into my brown blank face.

I would have missed the news about the girl who has gone missing for 54 days.

I would have missed saying the first prayer I've said in over a decade. The last time I said God's name was when I was 12 and a faraway volcano erupted that night and the next morning, there was snow on the rooftops for the very first time.

I would have missed my brother say, Today, I have a test and I did not study for it. I would have missed forgiving him, silently, for being the weight that I never could carry wholly.

I would have missed knowing the road home and how lonely I felt walking it.

I would have missed the sound of the sea in the wind saying forgive, let go, believe.