Now

Natalie’s asleep and I’m awake. I watch her serene face, her golden hair—she’s unaware. I’m pulled to her, and I know my sleep’s stream will soon join hers to form our running river. But before getting into bed, I must take a moment to sit silently by the window. I need to force myself to inhabit this moment. I focus and intone I am here, this is Now, I am here

this is Now

I must dismantle layers of taking things for granted, of the minutes slipping away relentlessly, while I’m oblivious and blind. Her lying there. These days. Tonight. The mere fact of awareness. And I think I’m ready to have a pretty good grasp on it. Then I spot it. Yes, it’s here. So I creep up and lunge to subdue it. Tonight, I must kill it. I’m truly aware, because the stalking Now is writhing and muscular in my arms. I try to keep its snapping jaw away from me—did I miscalculate? It thrashes around and lets out a soundless, deafening roar. I hold on to force it still—for myself, for us. And I have Now right here, by this invisible beast’s neck. Is strangling it enough? I doubt I can kill it with my bare hands. Its hide is too thick, the neck bursting with strength. Will we be safe? I try to appreciate Now truly, even as it threatens to overpower and devour. Surely, this is my best attempt yet. Amidst the struggle, I glance out the window, perhaps wildly, for there are more of them flying out there in the night sky. I don’t suppose there’s much else I can do, so this has to be enough, and then Now goes limp. I relax my hold. It lies with a frozen grimace, teeth bared, barely visible in the dark. So, I let it be. I turn away and enter the soft, warm bed. I incorporate myself under the duvet and curl up against her—perfect, eternal—and feel her pushing herself snug against me, and she takes my weary, bruised hand to safekeep near her heart, but I begin to feel a biting chill, yes, Now simply feigned death, Now is coiling, tensing up, creeping again. I never stood a chance, did I? And I wake up the next day, the next week, the next year, and then the decade, and I wonder whether I could’ve been more present. So forgive me, my lovely, because it seems I really couldn’t.