I don’t know how long I can sustain this kind of worry.
My anxiety has metastasized
and spread all over my body and our house.
The space between my children’s giggles alarms me –
It is too quiet, what has happened, are they okay?!
I sprint 4 yards down the hall in panic,
Expecting to see them lying dead on the floor.
They are quietly and contently
watching a show on their iPad
and drinking glasses of milk.
I consider just staying in the room,
wedging myself between them on the sofa
so I can feel their breaths
fall steadily on my forearm.
But they need dinner and baths,
and the laundry needs to go in the dryer,
and the dishwasher needs to be emptied.
So I peel myself away from them
to do what needs to be done,
all the while repeating to myself
They are not dead yet.