Chloe i have this memory. maybe it was 2003.
it was before we took down the wall separating our kitchen and dining room.
my mom and i played under the dining room table.
we collected flowers and leaves and sticks.
ponds were created out of tupperware.
diving boards out of boxes.
zip lines out of twine.
we played under the table for hours.
my orange tabby cat prowled through our magical village.
he drank from the pond, and my dolls rode him like a horse.
i have this fantasy. it seems like 2033.
i find myself dreaming of a magical garden.
the trees impossibly tall but offer branches to climb.
flowers bloom without note of season.
the air perfumed with pine and lemon and honeysuckle.
my husband strums the melody of my lullaby.
i see a blonde-haired child, maybe two years old.
she’s picking flowers and playing with kittens.
i imagine my mom staying with us for the summer.
she plants a garden with lambs ear.
the little girl rubs the velvety leaves between her fingers.
it feels like 2003.
