I had devoted great practice to acutely listening to my body. Something was wrong. Every cell in my body began to scream of death. My body withered in pain, with no relief. Pressure building to a point of no reprieve.
With every blink of my eyes, darkness wrapped around me. Though mere seconds, seemingly to last for hours. In the darkness on the backs of my eye lids my life began to play out before me. Memories of everyone I'd ever been.
I was a child, home from the beach. My body still floating on the waves of the ocean. Running up the stairs into the stale heat left over from the day. Pink and orange sun drenched the slanted floor in promise of tomorrow. The aged unfinished plywood was so smooth and soft on my salt soaked feet.
I sat hidden on my Grandmother's lap wrapped in her housecoat. The warm, red plush pressed against my face. Muffled giggles as her arms wrapped around me, hiding me further. My brother running by looking for me.
The cot on my front porch creaking under my weight. Inherited quilts heavy against my small frame as I nestled in for a nap. The sun slanting in through slats of the blind. The wind cool with a whisper of Autumn. The sound of the leaves dancing in the large trees across the street, a lullaby to the greatest nap I had ever known.
My little chestnut dog disappearing in and out of the tall grass. His cinnamon roll tail helicoptering behind him. His ears on the wind. His fur the softest I had ever felt.
Laughter crossing all my favorite faces. As I watched their faces shimmer and change with all the years I'd known them. Every hug my Mother had ever given me. Watching my Father's large knuckled hands move a small paint brush with tiny strokes. The feel of Josh's chin resting on the top of my head. What his hand felt like holding mine.
Fleeting thoughts that I hadn't hugged my Mother the last time I had seen her. That the last time I had hugged her I hadn't known it would be my last. That, that little cinnamon bun tailed dog wouldn't understand why I never came back home.
My body was floating in the ocean. I felt my body shift and fall with the waves. I could taste the salt of my lips. The sun danced upon the waves and across my skin. I was sinking and the darkness was growing.
I could hear screaming. Guttural screams. The kind that runs gooseflesh down your arms. The kind that stands the soft peach along your spine.
The screaming was me.
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