I know the past ain’t there, that it can’t be reached or touched, but it always feels like it’s reaching out after me, like it’s touching me, tracing the freckles on my skin, or getting tangled in my hair. Sometimes it’s like a hand, holding me back. Sometimes the hand strangles. Sometimes it comes around and covers up my eyes so I can see nothing else. I know it’s always today, but every now and then my today’s so full of yesterdays that it feels like I’m older than the first wave of Gods, older than time itself, older than I ought to be.

One yesterday I saw my best friend kiss my boyfriend underneath the bleachers. Another yesterday a neighbor backed his station wagon over my middle-daughter’s dog. On yet a different yesterday, a boy tripped me in the play yard to sneak a peak up my dress as I fell. And all those yesterdays (and thousands more) are clinging onto me, making a today of themselves every time I glance their way.

Some ancient yesterday ago (today), my father sat (sits) next to my mother’s bed, watching her die. They ain’t been married almost a decade’s worth of yesterdays by then (now), but when she started (starts) dying, she called (calls) out for him, and he came (comes) to her, ready to love her again, as much as his heart could (can) take. She almost died (dies) for a while, but then didn’t (doesn’t), so he sat (sits), and he waited (waits), letting her take her time. He talked (talks) to her. Listened (listens). Witnessed (witnesses). Sometimes I sat (sit) with him, but most the time I had (have) to be at work. He was (is) the only one with her when she does finally go.

Today I’m 35, I’m 17, I’m 43, I’m 11 (yesterday yesterday yesterday).

Two boys came by some yesterday, out selling God door to door. Elders, the both of them, dressed in their crisp, white shirts and blue ties, smiles so wide they ran out of teeth to show off. Elder Connor, and Elder Ethan (it said so on their name tags), both fellas younger than me by quite a bit, with eyes so bright I don’t think they’d ever seen the darkness. Elder Conner said, “Hi, Miss. You ever feel lost and lonely? Or worried about the future? Because our Lord Jesus Christ is the cure for that.” My dad was still alive back then, and mama too, and we were all still living together. This was back before I found a husband, back when my uncle Jonathan ain’t gone missing yet, and cousin Harry still hadn’t found his way to jail. One of those yester-yesterdays. I said, “What’s your return policy — I mean if he doesn’t work out for some reason?” and then Elder Ethan gave me the dirtiest look the boy could muster while still holding onto to that drawn-on smile of his.

Today I got divorced again. Today I sold my Toyota Corolla to a very eager, but very ugly college student, with red, curly hair, no jaw to speak of, and the kind of acne that’s sure to scar. Today I ate at Wendy’s, just off the freeway, because I was too sad to cook. Today I saw a man get robbed at knife-point. Today I housed half a frozen pizza, and then finished off the other half for good measure. Today I finally memorized the times tables up to “six”, and then recited them to Mrs. Loftus in exchange for a lollipop and two gold stars. Today I went to Wal-Mart twice, once with friends, and once with grandma. Today was the first day of summer, and cousin Molly’s borrowed her father’s car ’til 10 o’clock, and David said he has a 30 pack. Today I heard about impending layoffs. Today I bought a caesar salad, and threw most of it away. Today I listened to Loretta Lynn on the freeway, and then sat in my parking lot and cried for an hour straight. Today I had my first taste of curry. Today I saw a bird fall dead off a lamppost. Today I lost my keys at the river. Today I called my father “The dumbest man who ever lived” and stormed upstairs to my bedroom.

I say, “It’s faster than you think it is,” trying not to laugh. Barely awake, I ask, “What is?” “Everything,” I say, tears streaming down my face. “Everything.”