thinking

I miss the rhythm of childhood. The way each step followed the next.

The creak of the floorboards as mom came to the door.

Dad's nose honking in the shower.

Coffee grinder whizzing.

I miss the hope of summer in the smell of flowers, the push of the air, the ants on their hills.

climbing to the top of the dirt pile, the flapping of the tissue kite.

sliding down into the ravine, sand in my shoes, clay under my nails.

I need to go for a walk.