remember that empty-breathed panic the first time

you thought yourself lost, when the hand of the known, the dependable, mommy or daddy or grandma or nanny was suddenly torn away,

gone?

or the orange juice stain on the sofa where you knew you never should be so you lied and said no, not me, or the pennies you took from your mother's purse when you thought no one could see you except

you forgot about Santa and God