Our family arrives in the field after dark. Though it isn’t really dark—a streetlight illuminates the alley, the sun hasn’t quite released the horizon. My children are giddy with invisibility. I play tag with my daughter, sing call-and-response while we weave shadowless paths. I stretch my arms and claim I am flying to the moon. Does flight care if children cling to my legs? Past selves are as imperceptible as the Milky Way in the middle of the city. How tall are 15,000 darknesses? Can they take me close enough to Jupiter to see its storms with my naked eyes? Surely one of these stars looks for me alone and wonders.
Related Posts
My song, to me, the way I need it sung
Dear woman, love your belly. Wrap yourself in handwoven dresses; let starwhispers linger in your ears. Don’t dismiss your wisdom…
You do not need to explain your absences
Sometimes I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how to describe what I’m doing, the company I’m in.…
Who wants to hear your dreams?
Joni’s looking at both sides of the clouds, and I wonder what could make me feel like I’m not walking…