wake up!

[mylifeinajar]

i can hear my mother's voice. it climbs the stairs, pauses on the landing, the silence between i imagine my father low and humming - matching tone for tone from the kitchen where he scrubs the floor on his hands and knees with the blue sponge that he pushes in circles, trying to budge dirt stuck beneath layers of yellowed wax. my mother, her heels click against hardwood, i can trace her steps back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen to the landing and her voice travels two feet ahead of her, making its way up the stairs when she passes by them.

i am laying in my bed, wiggling my body, piling it high with pillows on top of comforters though it is eighty degrees out tonight. i am looking for dead weight to fill the space between my stomach and the ceiling, something to push me down so i can feel what it's like to be pressed against. if i prayed, i would pray for genuineness, but instead i just hope for prayer.