Hurry

I remember my father’s yellow truck and how I would race to meet him at the front door before he left at dawn. I remember missing him a few times and hanging on the screen door that tasted like my tears.
I remember the pink nightgown that I wore until I just didn’t fit into it anymore. I remember how silky it was and how I felt grown up.
I remember wishing for a time when people really listened to me, my words, my meanings. Sometimes, I still wish.

I’m not sure where I’m supposed to be anymore, as I’ve stretched myself too thin. I’ve been hiding since Fall. I don’t know when dawn is coming anymore.

I remember my sister and I snuck out one night on a full moon. The owl was in his tree and hooted at us as we ran to the beach to dance on the high tide sand. I remember it feeling like a beautiful dream and now I wonder if it was.

I see the magical moments, the Universe’s intake of fresh air. I feel the sparkle, but I don’t know how to show you. I don’t know how to place the words so delicately. But, if I did, you could use them as step stones and see what I see. Hurry.

A week ago I broke my ankle and it's forced me to stop. I've been writing and reading and none of it here. I'll bring some to share soon, I promise.