This is for Us

Of All The Things I Miss

i miss my childhood,
   my innocence and lack of worry,
   my belief in the last air bender,
   the world i would step into with a purple crayon late at night.

i miss my grandfather,
   my hispanic roots intertwined deep in him.
   our road trips in a trailer in texas,
   my cowboy hat and his, sitting beside each other,
   was it only nine years ago?

i miss that one day,
   she was sitting outside in light rain, despite my pleas
   i went over to her, and propped up my umbrella underneath us both
   she protested by scooting away or sticking her arm out
   but she realized the sound was nice enough beneath the cover.

   i relive that day a lot. every time it rains i sit outside, beneath the cover of my front
   door, wishing that she was next to me.
   maybe one day she will run down that driveway in the pouring rain, and we would
   embrace tightly and never let go again.
   it's unrealistic, but so is the dead coming to life, just to give me one spanish lesson.
   and so were the worlds i had wished to disappear into as a child.

unrealistic doesn't mean one can't wish.
unrealistic just means not today.

- so when it rains...

Guiltless by dodie