I am from

Moments that felt like holding on to something that is slipping away

I am from Christmas mornings
Heart leaping
A child’s excitement
Pulling my father down the stairs
He is all scattered gray hair
Pointing every which a way
And a soft Scottish accent,
Chuckling,
And my mother is all smiles,
Eyes bright and laughing

But always, the smile is pulled tight
And behind it all,
Pain,
Pain resting upon her
Like an invisible cloak

And I am cross legged on the floor
Eyes bright with the reflection of Christmas lights
Pushing away the too-old-for-my-age knowledge that
One day
One day
my mother is going to break

And I am going to lose her.