as i traced the outline of my mom's face with my imaginary hand--its delicate wrinkles, its invisible wisdom lines and the cushiony meat underneath--i burst out into the hardest, purest tears i've ever had in years

each of them made a perfect sphere like a pearl when falling down, splashing one by one on the cold surface of the linoleum floor as i mopped it over and over again

and i really do not know, whether it's truth or lie i've been keepin inside







mom, this is so hard