Weight. Things are important. Some moreso than others. Significant moments can weigh heavy. Some pass by quickly, buoyed by adrenaline or ignorance or deference or avoidance or distraction. But sometimes moments linger in a way that weighs; they press me into the ground. They depress my windpipe or wanderlust or winsome. They billow; they dampen; they muffle the sounds of my voice or mind or surroundings. Moments crowd me sometimes. I let them hang heavy like wet clothes. I don’t know how good that is. Sometimes I wish things weighed less.