Adriana.K.Maxwell
Sliding, slipping, red shoes fast, not stopping, heart pounding, grass-stained knees, getting up and back to the starting line to do it all again, screaming "Watch me!" because I'm 100 fast.
Land at last! Wobbling on sea legs on still boards, foreign flags flying. No time to adjust back, only to eat fresh fruit and see new faces, to gather supplies, before walking back on real waves.
Layers of cake and cream waited on the counter, ice cream soggy. Not enough people came and they stood in little bubbles of awkward conversations.
Cold mountain, frozen sky, cracks of blue and wild wind, silenced by snow, sharp, bright white under a cold sun
Walking with a little ceremony, waving, throwing candy, children diving from camping chairs after it, the firetruck comes, the star of the show with lights and sirens
We watched around wooden rails, tourists fanning themselves with brochures and checking the clock, water bubbling in a yellow hole and then the spray came up, "Old Faithful", indeed.
I love these long-armed explorers, the way they squeeze through anything and change colors to match their world and how the mothers love and care for their eggs.
Battle, swords clashing, artillery roaring, reduced to clenched fists and blood and sweat and desperation. Here we die and history won't even remember. It's just a piece of war but our wives and children will mourn. There will be a sea of grey stones and some won't even have names. There will be fiddles rotting in their cases, never played again. There will be a half-carved robin that we never taught our son how to finish. There will be a bride that waits for footsteps that never come. There will be a mother who swallows her tears because everyone tells her you were so brave and she will never know how scared you were.
The playground is bright yellow and red tube slides wriggling over each other and swings that launch you to kick the moon. There are chips for money in the shops under the walkway.
Here is a story of long-ago, that has passed through languages no longer spoken, that grandmothers told around the fire and big sisters whispered to babies, of talking foxes and golden fruit, of human hearts in beasts, of the strangeness of straying off the path, and how one word or act of kindness can change your life forever.
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