Hope

17

The Summer Rise of Slumber

Every year the summer solstice tilts
on the side of my face, giving me no choice
but to put on my submarine helmet.
I was raised to believe in feeling the sun
through a thick wall of glass and to never
breath outside between the hours
of lunch and bedtime. My ancestors have always
been those who stalked around the outskirts of
the water. Summer afternoons returned with
scrubbing of muddy feet and dirty fingernails.
They were always emptier and happier inside.
A familiar life we share as a family,
my mother, my brother, and I. The three of us
used to be the best of friends, I used to not mind
it too much. On mornings, she brushes our helmets
twice, checks our oxygen, and makes two platters
of pancakes. Neither of us can swallow her guilt
and build battle fortresses instead.

The first day of summer is always the brightest,
filled with homemade lemonade and the
newness of our submarine helmets. As days
go on my brother would ask if we could go
swimming in the backyard pond. Every night before bed,
I would watch him tape his one straw from dinner
into his scuba diving helmet. I can’t stop thinking
about his hands, burning under his desk lamp, hoping
to one day cool them in summer. But my mother only
gets worse by the year and told him to go swim
somewhere in the house. I don’t understood why she
does this to us but I never refuse her glass smeared kisses.
I love my mother when we sit on the steps and look
out the window for stars. We each would sip
simultaneously and smile. Every time she
swears she can feel our heartbeat with her stomach,
warm with lemonade and hope. But never for savor,
always just for a taste of something she always had.

Tonight though I can feel the heat on my skin,
I just know we are escaping outside. I tiptoe
to my brother’s bedroom and find him
in a cradled position with his back towards me.
I pick up his scuba diving helmet and place it
in front of him. He was feeling it too I can tell.
Hand in hand we walk down the steps preparing
for the worst … thankfully we left our pancake fortresses
in each corner. Target seems to be beyond the front door.
Pass the windows, pass the doorknob, my brother stands
behind me, we never have been this far without mother.
But then comes this air. We swallow a glass full,
taking seconds as we run to the pond. My brother
doesn’t hesitate and takes off his submarine helmet.
I watch him for us. Splashing and discovering but I keep it on
for my mother’s sake. I sit on the edge of the pond and
wash the tips of my toes. My brother pulls my ankles in,
which is followed by my entire body. The two of us take up
the whole pond now. I don’t scream or smile but sink deeper,
letting the water just touch the rims of my head. I hug my brother
and silently thank him for this salty holy water I can now call home.
I stand up, enough of summer for one night and start to run to mother.
My brother continues to float and falls asleep.
He took more after my father’s side.

I go up the stairs, pass her room, to my bed.
But I know I can’t sleep now. My thoughts are heavy
with the water, fish, and laughter that has been living
in our minds for so long. I lay down and try to lift
my neck up to look out the window, one more glimpse
of tonight’s stars I tell myself. I take off the submarine helmet
and place it in a corner. With each breath I take, I regain
ownership of my body. I pull myself up the windowsill,
finally able to feel the slumber of a summer night … cool,
warm, and dry enough to breath without a submarine helmet.