We’re playing in the field
You know, that one behind the middle school?
The one we used to play in,
Even though we knew we weren’t supposed to.
The one that You, Me, Rhi, and Hazel called our home.
Where we used to do cartwheels,
Make jokes,
Like there was not a care in the world,
Laugh,
Until seemingly infinite tears of happiness ran down our cheeks.
Where sun rays shone down,
While we laid in the grass,
And where on stormy days,
We became goddesses of the wind.
That one.
We’re there now.
We’re acting like we’re ballerinas.
It’s childish.
I know.
But the wind is blowing;
It’s not enough to mess up our hair,
But it’s just enough to make us feel like faux runway models.
The sun is just warm enough to take the chill off the breeze.
But instead of creating an imaginary catwalk,
In the midst of that dirt track,
We walk on the tips of our toes,
In the center of the field,
Between the soccer goals.
We’re moving our arms in a ‘graceful’ manner.
Graceful.
Ha,
Who are we really kidding with that?
We both know we look like dying seals
Trying to stand on their flippers.
And we also know we’ve gotten a bit too old for this,
But we don’t care.
We’re having fun.
We’re Polaroid pictures of jubilance.
Jubilance, we haven’t seen since we’d left for high school.
Jubilance, short lived.
Now more tears of laughter streak down our faces.
We’re thinking about how we must look like Class A idiots.
We’re thinking about how last time we were here,
We’d created a family,
I, Rhi and Hazel’s mother.
Jay, my brother.
They, your granddaughters, and son.
You, my mother.
Funny? Isn’t it?
You.
My mother?
I’m the one that watches over you.
“YOU CAN’T STEAL THAT BIKE!”
“WHY NOT?”
But I guess you take care of me
As well as a mother could.
We’re playing in the field,
Where old memories lie,
And new ones form.
We’re dancing like ballerinas.
It’s childish.
We know.
It's odd.
We know.
But we don’t care.
We’re happy here.
