The radio played songs from her childhood, beat out tunes as familiar to her as her own heartbeat, melodies that hummed through her bloodstream whenever she dared to listen. She was late, as usual. The alarm on her phone had gone off twice before she had complied and began gathering her things.
She could still taste the sweat in the air as all the neighborhood kids ran from yard to yard, hunted by whoever was "it," every muscle taught with electricity.
She had been hesitant, unwilling to deal with the inevitable mess that would come afterward, the dripping clothes, the waterlogged shoes, the exhausted screaming as she peeled his shirt up over his head. She was glad he had thought of it though, cajoled her into letting their son be little.
When she thought of him, she could still feel his small head against her chest in the middle of the night, her tears falling on his cheeks as she begged him to sleep.
She watched as her youngest dug in the sand, his hair curling from underneath his hat. The sand stuck to the insides of his elbows, the backs of his knees, places where the sunscreen was wet and thick. He tossed heaps of it over his shoulder, sending it flying into the wind.
His dad would bring him down the stairs, and he would squirm to be put down so that he could make his way to the pantry to find the Goldfish. Then, the two of them would sit on the couch and watch Mickey
He knew that he wasn’t allowed to touch any of them, so he would circle the rocking chair like he was circling an altar, glancing at the rows and rows of trucks with a look of reverence, itching to grab a few.
It felt cold and silky, and he liked how it moved across his legs, folding his body into its perpetual motion.
The older one laughed and shouted made up words, and the younger one laughed with him, shouting his own made-up words, each speaking their own language. They screamed so loud the echoes ricocheted off the walls and down the stairs, filling the entire house with their noise.
They play leap frog over the treetops, and the stars surround him as they sail through clouds that reach out and try to grab his toes.
It made his feet itch to be outside, made his whole body itch with the need to taste the grass and sticks between his teeth.
The flowers become an ocean he must steer through, his ship splashing against their stems like the lips of waves. They cry out to him as he passes, shouting praises of his bravery.
When he’s angry, he’s gnashing teeth and fire. He shakes the floor with his heavy feet, making the walls and trees tremble. He throws his toys and his magnets, sending them scattering across the tile. They cower in fear when they hear him coming.
His mom’s hand taps out a rhythm against his back as she pushes him higher and higher. He wants to kick the clouds and fly to the top of the trees.
The green turret of the castle cuts above the fog, calling out his name. There’s treasure nearby and his excitement is dripping off him, laced with sweat - swimming through his blood, filling his lungs and his mouth and stomach.
He sees his dad headed towards him so he runs the opposite way, stomping through the puddles in his path. Warnings of “don’t run” swim past his ears, but he ignores them and runs faster.
Her nose is your favorite - you chomp down with a voracious hunger, gnashing your teeth against her velvety plastic, soothing your swollen gums.
He likes the way it sounds, big, fearful; how it leaves your mouth hollow and round, like a sense of foreboding.
I want to tell you how fragile your hair looks - small wisps jutting out at all angles, sticky with water. I want to tell you how precious your laugh sounds as it bubbles up, deep from your belly.
E knows when it's time to end it, when it's time to evolve, and when it is time to evaluate your options. E embodies love and strength and humility.
