Grass Stains and Laughter

I see a flock of birds, waiting for summer.

I see lazy children in fields of green, lulling with flowers and weeds that are fun to play with.

I see a man whose arms reach for a smiling woman.

I see balloons that float forward, catching the wind as they go-

Red and blue and green colors spotting the view of the clouds.

And the clouds: I see an elephant from the circus, a puppy dog, a dragon, a memory, and a house.

I see the form of the house I grew up in with the blue shutters and the steep driveway-the driveway that my sister had pushed me down on a bike.

I see the treehouse in the backyard with the hole in the floor that I had fallen through at the age of 5.

I see the bumpy concrete where I had raced snails and had poked their eyes with my salt-weighted fingers.

I see the fence surrounding the yard and the loose hinge that had released my dog to the roads of “If seen contact…” ads.

I see the thick woods behind the fence where our cats had wandered and brought us presents of the finest moles and mice.

I see the swings that hold only two: enough for my sisters, but not me.
A younger version of myself waits patiently for my non-existent turn.

I see my mother in the living room watching soap operas that I don't understand.

My sister does handstands in the playroom and swings her legs as if she is trying to learn the jitterbug.

I see my mother standing in the kitchen and she catches me with the eyes in the back of her head as I sneak past to get the cookies.

While my mother dances, cooking dinner for the five of us, I turn on music and slide around the slippery floor, laughing.

My dad sits at the table, focused on a computer piece he picked up somewhere with plans to fix. 

My other sister cradles our cat in her arms, cooing and brushing her on the window seat.

The view from the window shows the big willow across the street that my mother weeps for, wanting one of her own.

The road that connects all of our houses together and all the neighbors we are friends with winds on and on. 

I see the road moving too quickly and too readily behind the car as we leave this house and this place.

I see my childhood blown away with the other clouds and in the blink of an eye:

I see that I am no longer a child.  

Reviews

[sincitycitizen]

I love this! So good!

[just is]

I can relate to this a bit, this is amazing,
love the imagery and detail. I can see it all.