Awake...

She always hated this moment.

The moment right before she opened her eyes.

With her eyes closed she could be anywhere. Doing anything.

Once they were open she was locked in to place.

She was here. Now. In this space. With a list of things ahead of her.

Which wouldn't be as terrible if it didn't constantly change.

Okay, that was an exaggeration, it didn't constantly change. She did have one stretch where she had opened her eyes to the same room for 21 different days in a row. It had been long enough that on the 22 day she hadn't even had a moment of dread before she opened her eyes. She knew what was coming. She had actually smiled and taken a deep breath and then...

So now she was back to hating that moment.

Yesterday she had lived in San Diego. She had gone to Balboa Park with her daughter and they had ridden the miniature train. It had been a lot more fun than she had expected. Her daughter had been great. So inquisitive but not scared. It had been a great day.

Last week had not been great. She had been at the water park with her son and he had an accident. Broke his wrist coming out of the Super Sensational Slide. It was not a good day. The broken wrist was just a broken wrist but then the doctor had come out to talk about what the x-ray had uncovered and she had fainted from the shock.

She didn't know if he would recover or not because when she had opened her eyes she was not there anymore.

She was never sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. There were times when it was a relief to move on. To start over. But most of the time it just left a lot of holes in her heart. She had tried to count one time and came up with close to 30 children and 15 spouses in her life not to mention hundreds of friends and sets of parents and step parents and co-workers and even strangers on the street. People she would never see again. Never know how things turned out. But people she could never forget.

It seemed very unfair to her. She was aware of everything as soon as her eyes opened. Every memory, good and bad. No detail was too small. Yesterday she was not making breakfast, she had promised they could have pancakes before going to the park. They weren't going to the zoo. It was so expensive now. But most of the park was free. Pancakes, then the park, then and only then would they find a quiet place to rest and talk about daddy. Which had actually gone so much better than she had been dreading. Anniversaries were so difficult but this one seemed sweet by comparison. They told funny stories and talked about how much they missed him and then got his favorite ice cream as a "toast" of sorts. It was a good day.

Which is how she knew she wouldn't be back.

She only got the days that they thought would be hard. The ones they had been dreading with all of their might. And sometimes they were right to dread it. Sometimes it was awful. But sometimes it was sweet. Or lovely. Or boring. Boring was actually really nice. When you have been so worried and then it turns out to be nothing? That's when boring can be as good as a great day.

Not like the PTSD memory moments.

Like the day at the water park. She probably hadn't even been there. Not really. Not when it was happening. She got to come in for a loop replay of the day. One time she had lived the same memory 16 times. Those were worse than not knowing what her day was going to bring. There had never been a pleasant run of memories when she was living the replays.

She wondered what happened to them when she was there. Did they get the break they so desperately wanted? She knew everything they did, did they get echos of everything she knew?

That would be a lousy trade off.

You get out of dealing with your shit for one day (or 21 days) but you get the residual memory of thousands of just as bad if not worse days? She hoped not. She wasn't sure why this was her life but she wouldn't wish it on anyone else.

In the moments before she opened her eyes she tried to reach out and understand her life. Why this was her life. Once she opened her eyes she was living theirs. But this moment? This was hers.

It was probably the other reason why she hated it so much.

There was just so much of it. So many tears. So much anger. So much pain. So few really okay days that felt like small blessings.

She hoped that their desire for a break wasn't actually making things worse for them.

Usually.

Sometimes, after a particularly bad time, dozens of rounds in the old PTSD generator, sometimes she wished they could feel everything they were putting her through. All of the added stresses. All of the horrible days compounded into one.

But then she realized that if she wished hard enough for a break, she might get one. And then someone else would step in to her life.

Just for a moment.

And they would awake to this.

She opened her eyes...