I have tried storing my sadness in different places. when my father got upset my mother would clean. wipe down the bench. do the dishes. my father never seemed sad. only angry. but my mother still cleaned up after him. stored his sadness in the kitchen cupboards or under the bed. I eat breakfast and my mother cries while she vacuums up parts of my father. He is hungry. He is hungry and I am trying to find a place big enough to store my childhood trauma and the cupboards are full. the cupboards are full.
