Indecisive Dreaming

Winona

Winona

The little park by the intersection in the middle of town used to have musicians on summer evenings. Notes floated through the warm air, the tired grown ups rested their aching bones, and children danced on the little patch of green grass in front of the makeshift wooden stage.

The soft sound of melody floating above the Douglas firs was the music of my first summer. I leaned back against the trunk of a willow tree, pulled fistfuls of grass from the ground beside me, and watched. Above, the sky was fading into evening, lavender to the charcoal grey of silk. 

My dreams of her were from that day, the threadbare brown swing dress and the sweet smell of dried apricots. Choppy brown hair and mismatched socks. A faded necklace of daisies, and with it, the calm grey eyes that found peace. Winona. 

She smiled, flashing me the space of a lost tooth all eight year olds wore with proud and closed her eyes, leaning against the willow. I stared, mouth slack, one hand fiddling with the button on my tired dungarees. Too soon, the final chord rang through the trees, and the girl in brown swing dress stayed, half asleep, against the tree even as my father took my hand in his and pulled me away. 

She looked so tranquil, lying there, but I forgot. As summer drew to a close, my brother James built me a treehouse with a window in the roof. I lay there with him in the nights, gazing at the stars and remembering the music. One by one, the lights in the houses flickered out, until the only light was the moon above and the only sound was the faint call of the owl and his breath, slow and heavy.

"James," I said, one night. 

He turned his head, creaking against the wooden floorboards of the treehouse, listening carefully as I spoke.

"You won't forget me, will you?"

I remember his laugh, deep and merry. "Never. Why would you ask that?"

"Because I don't want to forget you. I don't want to forget anything."

He drummed his fingers against the wooden slats, the slow rat-a-tat-tat beating like rain. "Let's make a deal, okay?" 

I nodded, shuffling my hair against the floor.

"This summer, we won't forget, and next summer, and the summer after we won't forget. Won't leave each other behind. And every summer from now on, we're going to sleep up here in this treehouse, together, as brothers. I'm never going to say goodbye, alright, little brother?"

"Okay." I nodded again, sleep clouding my eyes.

He leaned over and ruffled my hair, laughing that deep and merry noise. "Goodnight. Sweet dreams."

That night, I didn't forget. I dreamt of her, my Winona, sweet as summer rain.