Hour 7

I walked on roads of asphalt towards the big great dam, the pool reflecting the clouds in the child’s eyes. Its water the colour of the sky, it reminded me of the lakes in Slovenia that filtered themselves through layers of rock. Remember how you told me I was going to a petting zoo the day you would jump out of the sky? How it was a surprise, that I got to fly with you? I remember the car almost falling into pieces on the way up, kicking my feet in the air, how it almost failed. I do not remember my mother’s fear, only know about what she told me. How all the muscles in her body contracted. My mother is not a religious woman so she did not pray, but I want to believe she looked for all the dandelions in the field, rubbed her eyes so fiercely in search of an eyelash they turned a sleepy red only so she could wish for my safe landing right there on the big white x. All her kisses were with me, a mother’s child, hanging in the air living the best life. The cocoon a comfortable cushion among the well-travelled birds. My father was on the top of the mountain, ready to jump after me in case the parachute did not hold. After I landed, I hugged my mom. When my dad hit the ground, I hugged him. I will always remember the fireworks after. Feeling home. Feeling loved.

One thought on “Hour 7

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *