We went to the river, which is shrunken with summer. The sandbars we've been wading around on are all dry land now. The water was shallow and warm, except when we found a deeper cool spot. In one of those, I stood on the tips of my toes like a ballerina, with the cool water up to my neck and my hands on my hips and my chest big and open, all stretched out and buoyant.
I saw someone with a body that looked a lot like mine and I liked the way they looked. We took big beach umbrellas into the water, and discovered that you could make a tiny private cave of umbrella and water. All the sounds were muffled except the water lapping against the umbrella, and the light was striped pink and green and blue. On the way back, there were white flowers in little clusters that looked like stars or fireworks on the shady parts of the path, and in the sunny parts the light was golden through the green, green marsh grasses and deep yellow flowers.
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When I was walking to the grocery store, in the heat of the afternoon, I went through a tunnel of shady trees where a sprinkler was running, and I stood so it would sprinkle my toes and waved my arms around in the sprinkles and felt cheerful.
The heat wave broke today. My appetite came back, and I ate tamales and avocados and chocolate pudding and ice cream. Around midnight, I stood on the porch in my underwear and felt the coolth and looked up at the moon. The wind had carried the worst of the wildfire smoke away; I could see the stars again and the moon was its old self. I made this blog. My feet are dirty, and I can feel salt on my face. |
AuthorBitter Water
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June 2019
Categories© Francie Nevill and Every Sweet Thing, 2017.
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