Daybreak beams extend through the timbre skyline splashing shadows around our wooded sanctuary. Electric green clover patches praise the early hours. The one sound beside our two beating hearts is the river beside us. It is consistent and revealing, the way we were (the way we are).
Being next to him feels different, like we’re within one another instead of alongside. We’re sharing the squishy riverbank. My fingertips and toes quiver in an atmosphere that tastes like spring and feels like life. The water’s movement reflects waves of sunlight that encompass our body in a golden vine cocoon. We’re speaking without voices, feeling without touching.
Overcome by his ocular composition of Moonlight Sonata, the emotion of eye contact exceeds me.
Drifting cloud forms above reveal purple sunrise as she claims the last wished upon star. He slowly breathes out and I inhale the life released. He’s saying it’s time to sleep now. He seems to rest much easier than I do.
I have been listening to the voices as far back as I can currently recall. I was an awkward child when I first heard them; a woman who I did not recognize said they were my imaginary friends.
They persistently mentioned things I could not understand. I wanted to ask them where my husband was, how I ended up in this unfamiliar household with a peculiar woman claiming to be my mother and two strangers for sisters.
We have always been tea drinkers, but the house smells like coffee. I listened to the mother sitting at the freshly wiped kitchen table telling her friends about how the little one is so much more independent than the older two. At times my blurred vision was a difficult distraction, I’ve never needed glasses before…