etldy2002

Sunday, as I napped, I dreamed.  My cousins were here.  They are adults now, but they were kids again.  We played, and ran about the neighborhood, in and out of houses.  Then I was trying to help one with a series of math problems for objects called deaths.  As I tried to help him, he kept disappearing, and I knew part of it was him trying to leave his mother.  I was the one to keep going after him, bringing him back.  I convinced him to come inside, so we could keep trying to finish his homework.  In one of the armchairs of the living room sat my grandfather, that I never knew.  He had been there earlier, watching us as we played, running th

I walk with only my sister, my phone, my camera, and the soft sound of snow falling as company, and I think of you. Few cars dare to trek where we just passed, but we walk in tire tracks. I'm tempted to gather the dry snow into a snowball, intending to fly at D, But ungloved hands make me wish I had your hands to warm them up. And as she starts to complain of the cold, I laugh, for sneakers and jeans offer little protection from the cold snow. Deep down I want to keep walking, but company is preferable to wandering by myself. I wish I had yours.