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The Dust escapes into the air when you open it;

The thickness of it all weighs you down

Like a sack of rocks in your arms

You push past the lump in your throat and flip

Until you see her

Perched on the side of her bed, she’s a bit older than you

In a baby blue dress, her shiny, kinky, cocoa hair tumbling down her broad shoulders,

And white socks on her large feet

You study the same eyes she gave you, soft brown and hidden behind her thick lashes and

The wrinkles that crinkle around them as she smiles

The mother you never got a chance to meet.

You even hold her close to your heart in a hug like embrace

The way I do when I see a loved one after some time--

Then you finally put her away and the dust returns once again.