I hope you remember me every day,
like those thoughts that never cease,
the ones that won’t leave no matter how hard you push them away.
The kind of piercing memory
that arrives when you doubt yourself.
Like the feeling of leaving home
and sensing that something is missing.
Like forgetting the last item
on the grocery list.
I hope your actions embarrass you.
I hope that one day you put yourself in my shoes,
even though I know they’ll be too big for you.
I hope that one day you understand
what it is for the soul to drown in tears.
I hope you regret it
and scream my name when you’re alone.
That you remember my body
as something you will never be able to reach,
even if you stand on your tiptoes.
That my gaze obsesses you,
the one you knew stripped you bare.
I hope you tell stories about me
as if I were an urban legend:
the first time someone — outside your family —
gave you a home.
I hope all this damage you caused me
was worth it;
that sacrificing an entire field
of summer sunflowers was worth it.
I hope that, as you plucked petal after petal,
the last one still said “she loves me,”
and that even then you feel you failed.
I hope you see women with curly hair
and your skin prickles
just remembering mine.
I hope leaving me dry
quenched your thirst,
and that now you have water
even in the most desert places.
Maybe I’m asking too much.
Maybe I’m asking nothing.
Maybe you’ve already lived it.
Maybe you never will.
Maybe you already know.
Tell me, what was it like for you?
Like peeling off a badly placed bandage?
Like taking the trash out of a winter coat?
Like asking a stranger for a drag?
Like swallowing a pill at a Christmas party?
Like waking up without sleep?
Like breathing fresh air
after months locked inside?
Like dropping heavy grocery bags?
Like reaching the finish line
after running for hours tied up?
What was it like? Tell me.
I hope you’re proud.
I hope you’re proud.
I hope you’re proud.
And that your father is even more so.
After all,
not everyone manages to become
a wolf in sheep’s clothing…
and not even then manages to be anything different
from what he always was:
a monster afraid of himself.
Photography by Ana Valentina Palacio
