In the night I dream I am a child.
This body sheds free the years and I am unfettered once again. My torso becomes a breath, these legs long and lanky, my arms–two sticks reaching out from the trunk of me. I am a stranger in my body but I remember this. Oh, yes, I remember this. There is sun-warmed moss beneath my bare feet and I am loosed to run—limbs strong and tireless—forgetting sorrows lived into this skin.
In my dream, we are on the cusp of summer, ready to dive headlong into her depths. I feel her breath fan out on my sleeping cheeks—feel her days linger long before me. When the night comes, so does the dew…soft-gathered on blades of grass. Moisture in the air wets my lungs, clings to my skin. Summer beckons me to stay outdoors long into the night. And my child-self delights to be her guest of honor.
We are catching fireflies. Each twinkling star in the sky above is matched below by a living one and I feel my heart startle with joy each time the air winks before me.
But when I wink back and open my eyes, the dream is gone. And so are the fireflies.