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Meet her

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  • Meet her

    His little sister towers above grass, stumbling and rolling and somersaulting. The day is fresh, strong sunshine beats down, something we can't stop. She loops through her shadow, moved with laced shoes into a twirl, another twirl, and a few cartwheels. She lands and puts up her hands.
    The pants on her have stripes up and down, she's practicing athletics. Gymnastics is her favorite activity. Her blonde strands hang golden in the sun, as she moves hand over foot; she has not been in love with a boy yet, she barely knows much, and doesn't need to: She is free, able to move, and loves doing so.
    She has read weird books in the library that tell her why mosquitos bite people, she has found out why the bathtub overflows when you throw too much in. She hates green food, and loves corn, fish, sausage, cake and berries. But she doesn't worry about that stuff when she's out wheeling.
    The world is outside, where the sun is contained inside it, so many worlds away she learned, bobbing in the sky, holding things together. When she looks up, it is a feature of Life, and when she looks down again, she's reminded of her own life.
    On the blacktop she can walk, and smell the fresh asphalt, and kick her shoes before her as she moves. Too hot, too hot, feet start to turn pink and shiny. Burnt. She puts the shoes back on while wincing.
    She has never worried that there is something wrong with herself. She expects the sun to be out there, to have a good day with her, so why should she worry? It never made anything happen, so she never made it her habit. She just liked to twirl, twirl, and learn about the world.
    She would watch birds, delighted when they'd let her peek at what they're carrying back to the nest, back for the repairs or the feeding. She wonders what else.
    She smiles at the ducks, she wants to swim without getting wet, she dreams of avalanches of snow to be her icecubes in her drink. She listens to birds sing, and frogs meditate, sometimes singing, too. She loves the night but she'll usually be asleep early, so she knows how special it really is.
    Stories of the world she finds wonderful. She thinks that there is so much to learn, that love is true and can't be broken; she's heard of 'breaking hearts' before but didn't quite believe it's true.
    Nothing can stop her curiousity. She likes to play alone, or with friends, near her house where the road ends. She doesn't understand why she has to do certain things, but she takes it on faith that they will be good for her. Besides, her parents know best. And they're the ones who tuck her in, so. Love made a character of her, so that she might not belong to any 'single' person. But she does believe in God, so she belongs to the world, but she also believes in 'quiet time' where she can gather up her stray thoughts, make a boquet of them. Terrified of failing, she learns her skills FAST, and will chat right til the end of the day about 'what she thinks it all means'. Because she is smart, and strong, and knows how to use her words. In the world she's born into, she knows that it takes much less to do something for herself, than to ask. But sometimes she needs help. Some things she cannot do. She hates crying and she forgives everyone, because she knows what its like to lose your friends. "So why would I want to remember the bad things about them?" ...Her reasoning. "The bad things turn into good ones, if you wait enough."

    And so she has made the day turn golden, in turns of green grass and bushes and trees rolling around the hills; she has put a crease in the yard where she has been. And she has stamped on the ground beneath trees, in trying to make them move. To walk like the giants they are. "I want you to come out," she says, as a curl of hair gets caught in the wind. "Show me you."
    And she dives in the grass, and looks back, smiling. Playing. What can she do if no one shows up? She's waiting, half-sure of herself. She doesn't know the meaning of meaning yet, how everything is relative. She cares about what she loves, and she will eventually die within it, and fall back into the gaping earth with hands too tired to clutch the sides. And when she is finally swallowed by the Earth, I hope that she can say she finally has played enough, and wants to go home.
    But I'm not the one who's going to stop her.

    She has a head start ... will they meet her?
    Last edited by amenOra; 05-04-2019, 05:30 AM.

  • #2
    An excellent evocation of what it is to be young exploring life.


    • amenOra
      amenOra commented
      Editing a comment
      May we always take our youth to our grave I suppose still exploring! lol