Updated: September 13, 2016
A Piece You Are Proud Of:
If you could slow down an action that usually zooms by, or speed up an event that normally drags on, which would you choose, and why?
His hair is synonymous with the wind; it is silver and blonde that steals lime-light of the golden sun. Long like his stemming legs, his waves rush with Zephyrus’ breath. The child’s eyelashes sprout like Lotus flowers from the muddy pond of his irises. I notice the effort it takes for him to blink, slowly, like the cilium cannot stop their follicles from trembling in delight of the world. The smile and twisted teeth that grow in gaps gladdens me. A wave, like his wind-blown hair, trembles through his little fingers.
I have dreamed this image a million times. I wish I could slow down the time and paint it as would Claude Monet. Even he would have difficulty capturing all the beautiful pigments in my sibling’s thin lips as he welcomes, “Hi. I’ve missed you. School was dumb today.”
Was there ever a fondness so deep that the ache of your yearning felt like heartbreak? I wish I could speed up the moments when I miss this child, my young brother. He is tobacco in my gums and addiction in my heart. Constantly is my voice calling, “Tell me about your day.” I cannot get enough of you.
I wish I could watch him walk to my car and into my hug forever. He’s nearly grown out of expecting kindness; I can tell in the little ways as his golden heart learns about the graceless. I grieve with him in his sorrow as he realizes this. His voice in my backseat is small as he tells me about bullies. My little man is sublime in spirit and exalted in my heart.
So there it is, my weakness exploited for a simple desire to timetravel.
I hope he never grows up.