Rewind

Waking without an alarm
Hovering between sleep and consciousness
I could be any of my selves
Under covers warm and weighty
Rolling to find a cool spot on a pillow
Eventually, one deep breath and a stretch
Ushers in awareness
And my eyes open to a bed I bought
In a house I own, with my dogs on the floor beside me
My laundry on the floor and dishes in the sink
Some days I sigh and wish I could rewind
Time like an old tape in a VCR
To find again late, wine-filled nights
Laughter around a rickety table
A world full of familiar friendly faces
Where I never went to the grocery store alone
Where laundry day meant a long conversation
And Wednesdays meant cheep pizza and beer
Or farther back, bike rides
Marked with the rhythm of practicing spelling
Swinging as high as I could go –
Until the chains relaxed and then pulled taut again
Swimming faster than the other kids
Or miles underwater, muffled sounds overhead
Days when all the time in the world was immeasurably spent
Omnipresent miniature relatives clamoring For apple juice and a diaper change
And time never stretched out long and lonely
Where all minutiae was rich with meaning
Where my best stories were born
And I never woke to find choices like walls hemming me in
In that space between sleeping and waking
With my cheek on the cool pillowcase
Suspended in time