I am intent on inhabiting the present moment. I am lying here, listening to the life that is happening around me and practicing mind control — mine.

For I dare not enter into the past. The “if only“s will lead me down a path of despair.

And the future looms large and unfriendly, but only if I raise my eyes to the darkness in front of me. If I keep my mental gaze away, there may be a shadow at the corner of my eyes, but I can’t really tell.

And in this present moment, a little face is putting herself in front of me.

Delaney positions herself to watch me scribble in a notepad, moving her finger until it successfully collides with the ink flowing from my pen.

“Stop drawing, Mummy!” Dell commands. And so I obey.

For my life is here, now, with her and her sisters.

Later

It’s been over twenty-four hours since I last fed Elijah. My breasts are hard bags of marbles, sore to the touch and constantly leaking. I have folded up a small towel and placed it inside my shirt to absorb the moisture.

My breasts’ steady outflow is the catharsis I need as a substitute for the tears that do not come. I am tired, I am bereft, I am alone — all while I am surrounded by people who do everything for me and ask for nothing in return.

I retreat to my sanctuary — my bed in the trailer. Only our girls dare follow. Two-year-old Delaney is the most bold of all, demanding this and that as I attempt to withdraw.

But life goes on, as it must. And it is precisely a toddler’s naivety and indifference to my suffering that pulls me back to life.

Yes, Dell, I will serve you. You refuse to let me wither up, so let me live for you and your sisters.