And while I'm reading, I fall asleep. Light sleep, widthwise across the bed, unintended sleep. I awake startled, what time is it? where is she? Oh my god, I've fallen asleep with my child here alone--it's been two hours--"JENNA!?" Nothing, and with my heart outside of myself, I run up and down the stairs three times, "JENNA!?" it is my terror yelling for her, sure she is gone, already in that place of her being gone, of loss-dread, before I remember that she is not supposed to be here, she is with her aunt, that I drove her there three hours ago, that she's not supposed to answer me, because she is not here, she is there, and I have been dream writing, sleeping on the edge of loss again.
