Every single time

The first time I come. It doesn’t feel like fireworks. It feels like breaking into a run. That moment when muscles coil, prepare. And suddenly there is a hand pressing at your lower back, propelling you forward. You go from heavy to light in an instant, you’re sprinting, feet barely touching the ground. Everything rushes by, and it’s you right there at the centre, flying.

That’s what it feels like.

And then you come crashing back to earth, heavy limbs and hard breath. Everything slows to its usual, unbearable pace, and the loss of that lightness is as painful as a punch. You were free, you were running. And now you are back here on the ground.

I never let Mr. Jackson see how sad this loss makes me. How it makes me cry. Every single time.

~ Alice, Into the After

Image by Joanne Piechota

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