The Episode

Poem 1. - The Episode

Trigger warning: description of bodily distress.

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A warm welcome, best week of the year.

Catching up with family, my brother, whom I haven't seen since New Years.

The lake spread out before us, my toes sinking into the sand.

A story about a phone, lost to faceless strangers, then a good natured joke they know I can't stand.

Light, airy conversation; familial laughs dancing in the summer breeze.

Reuniting, reminiscing, relearning each other's idiosyncrasies.

Enthusiastic rumors about recreating an epic moment, we know exactly which one.

"Just one quick dip!", he says, before we join the fun.

Drying off, my sister heads up first.

One last tip, my drink is gone, ready for a third.

My boyfriend cracks a joke, we all crack up laughing.

I held this moment dear, my siblings all together, lungs gleefully collapsing.

And then the air shifted - it was subtle and barely detected.

A whisper so silent, I hardly reacted.

My sister hastily returns, as if on cue, eyes still with warning and pause.

"He's having another episode," whiplash and dread, quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Sprung into action, I had to go first.

I had to be present for a moment they were unfortunately well-versed.

Top of the stairs, all eyes on the kitchen floor.

Rounding the corner, head lolled back, not sure how long he'd been there for.

Mom's voice, legs pinned under his weight.

Sprinting to help, as if sparing seconds could be too late.

Skin pale but warm, that's what I remember most.

Limbs frail but heavy, having no autonomy of their own.

He's awake, he's conscious, but he's still feeling lightheaded.

My cousin, a doctor, checking vitals and staying coolheaded.

Thoughts running wild, images of the past unannounced.

The surrounding faces of my family, fear, anguish, concern all at once.

EMT finally arrives, continued use of the word, "Partner."

Staying strong for mom, shedding silent tears, feeling like an imposter.

Ambulance is ready to leave, we pack up two cars.

Music playing, keep the conversation light, we drove for what felt like hours.

Waiting room to ourselves, keep mom busy.

Jaws on the television, "Is this hospital crazy?!"

Chills from the A/C, colored a princess with shitty crayons.

Anxiety subsiding, smiling, calling the shark victims "morons" with the wave of our hands.

Nurse calls mom back, he's stable and doing well.

She lets us know that we can go, she's okay, our emotional support duties fulfilled.

The drive back is animated, as things always are with my brother.

Although I tried, I couldn't shake it; I felt disturbed and bothered.

Head tilted against the window, I thought, "I'm so thankful mom hadn't been alone."

It was fate that brought us all here on this day, like God threw us a bone.

12:50am, dad is staying, mom is coming home.

1:30am, make sure mom gets back safe, let my mind roam.

9am, morning light streaming through the quaint guesthouse, birds singing.

The air is still, I pause, waiting for a warning.

"Dad is coming home today!" my first text read.

Relief, exhaustion, body slumping over from last night's dread.

He's okay, everything is okay right now, refrain from asking, "Why?".

I close my eyes, wrap my blankets close, and let myself cry and cry and cry.

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