In my dreams, I return from Europe to the humid south of China.

I move through bamboo forests, weightless, until I crash into the cold metal frame of a cage.

My mother has been gone for twelve years. She still appears in my dreams.

She is still ill, but alive.

I ask her if she is dead. She says no.

———————

I hold on to these moments. I try to measure them, as if time in dreams could extend a life.

She lives the most ordinary days. Mopping the floor. Celebrating a birthday.

She meets her granddaughter there.

For a long time, these encounters allowed me, after waking, to face the weight of life.

———————

I wake up in Europe, carrying what remains of those dreams.

Mama,

Today was an ordinary day. When I came home, the day was already waiting for me: laundry, toys scattered across the floor, an email still to be written to the insurance company.

It is summer in Europe now, with sixteen hours of daylight, yet I feel I have not received even a moment in return.

Night is slowly coming in. All I want is to put on my red shoes, step outside the door I haven’t opened all day, and feel the evening breeze.