In an alternate universe

In an alternate universe I’d be flying to Mexico hold you tight at the airport, have atole and pan de muerto waiting for me at home. You’d be wearing your white, knitted cardigan with the brown buttons, you’d show me around the new house and I would sleep, tired, unknowing, blissful. I would maybe have a nightmare but when I’d wake I’d go to your room, lie between you and mum and hold your hand in the quiet morning.

But I’m not there today. Today I’m in Berlin, with no atole or pan de muerto and my hands can only hold your coat that I sometimes squeeze, when I’m feeling lost, pretending it is you and I am squeezing you. Today it’s just air and quiet tears.