Essay

How I Accepted My Karma and Found Hope Again

I am eight. I sit across from my mom in my pediatrician’s office on the paper-covered table. The paper is crinkled and uncomfortable. My mother’s head is cupped in her hands as the pediatrician leaves the room.

New York City is the most densely populated city in the United States. New York City is also one of the most famous cities in the world. If you walk down the street anywhere in the city it will be alive, the city doesn’t sleep.

7:53 My mother has creases under her eyes I’ve forgotten I contributed to, laugh lines around her lips I didn’t realize were from jokes I’d made.

It didn’t occur to me, not on the first day, or the second

* * *

If you asked me to describe the job 

It sounded like the popping of a champagne bottle. 

Dear America, 

Collect the raindrops left scattered on the ground, cut the dying trees before they die. Live with your hands until you die in your mind.

The leaves are dying. I know there is a future for them, even if it is months away. I would like to believe that there is some future where I will not be sick all the time.

This morning I woke up at six am. The country was bleeding pomegranate red and I, so sure we'd be drinking in a giddy paradise blue, stared blankly for minutes if not hours at the flashing computer screen.

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