My boys find a project box with glow-in-the-dark inks. I work on my couch, computer in lap, hoping ibuprofen kicks in.
They call me and I hear it. They push the screen away, grab my hands, and I obey.
In the bathroom, they close the door. The three of them there with the lights out, the big boys with their paper and glowing ink.
And I can’t see them anymore – all pitch dark. The four of us, and I shrink as they grow equals in infinity of black. I can’t feel myself, can’t see, could be three feet tall on the other side of the moon. Who knows how big the dark can get? Who cares?
The glowing yellow moved like a shooting star. Galaxies. Children laughing, and I was there suddenly
in Alabama, outside after sundown – sister too, laughing, clean-faced, the big unafraid dark.
Remember when you didn’t know what sex was, except that it maybe had to do with the tea ceremony in Karate Kid 2? So much of our heart is always child, the innocence here – I’ll remember my boys this way – roarous laughter, lights in the dark.
RunaMuck in your Reader?
After the eggs and maybe cinnamon toast, as soon as we can get something pulled over our heads, we go outside. You, my little sister, follow me toward the barn, but I remember and say, “Let’s go back in and get it!”
At the foot of the bed, the E Encyclopedia opens to “Egyptians.” We get the shivers, crouch in the floor so they can’t look at us through the window. I see them out of the corner of my eye. You, too; we hide.
Leap-frog girl to girl into the hall, feeling every low angle of the house, we peel off the back porch, over work boots. Behind the tree is Ra. Hear the rustle, sun god in the leaves. Chills at the base. You look afraid. We feel the eye whirl in, cold air, the zoom of being known.
Cats belong to them, everywhere. Run to the oak tree! We squat down and look on all sides. You whisper, “out there at the road, they’re gone now.”
So we run to the flat rock in the yard. Wide open, our toes wet and crushing last violets. We are millionaires bashing rocks for quarts. All the jewels.
Tell me now. My name is Jade.
What do you want your name to be?
***
Many days it’s as though I’ve forgotten how to play, so I took a minute to remember it here thanks to Story Bleed, celebrating #GoGoDayofPlay. Can you tap back in, share a memory of play?
RunaMuck in your Reader? Tagged as:
invisible,
make believe
