The Distance Between Sitting and Standing

The kid downstairs started crying at six.

I lay there and listened

and then it stopped,

and I still didn't get up.

That's not unusual. That's the whole week.

I made it to the edge of the mattress —

that's something, I told myself,

which is a thought I didn't used to have.

Feet flat on the floor.

The carpet kind of cold.

My body just —

staying.

Not tired exactly.

More like the idea of standing up

was on the other side of something

I couldn't see through.

Gravity's a boring excuse.

I know that.

But there's the kind that holds planets in orbit

and there's the kind that makes the three feet

between the bed and the bathroom

feel like a decision that could wait.

I sat there until 8:47.

I know because I looked.

Then I stood up

and the standing up felt like nothing —

like the whole weight had been in the waiting,

and then it just

released.

The kid started crying again around nine.