“I have got to eat somehow. I feel a hole”. – Indigo de Souza 

I am spending the holidays alone for the first time in my life.

In adulthood when I go home I embody a version of myself that has died. Time slows down and everything is covered by a hot haze that threatens bad weather. The wind laughs thickly and cruelly in my face.

I cried at the thought of going back there, and now I cry at the decision to stay. I perpetually find myself asking when we can go home. 

The feelings around my decision weigh heavy on my mind.

They ebb and flow like waves, each one more violent than the last. They toss me in and out of childhood memories and the shame of choosing myself. They crash against my cerebral cortex, and swallow my amygdala. 

The sirens blare. 

My brain Seeks sOlace in the cycleS. So I grab another clorox wipe and wipe down the counters. 

Another wave hits hard and I wash my hands once more. Then again, and again and then just one last time. 

Signals from the ship tell us we must evacuate. I must throw out the food because it is contaminated and so I wipe down the fridge once, then again and then just one last time. 

The captains try to hold onto control of the ship as I hold back tears.

I wish I could bomb this kitchen. I wish I could scrub my brain clean.

I will scrub hard in the shower instead and wait until this storm passes.