Sunday, June 7, 2009
Evabird, last night I didn't have the dream where you are falling from some place high and I have to run to catch you, or the dream where we are out on the road, driving under a shaky sky, and when I look back for you, you're gone. I dreamed, instead, that the moon was full--wasn't it?--and that I had a pair of slender silver scissors to cut your hair. I can't believe how much your hair has grown, how much you have grown, how long the days have grown. They will grow longer for a while, get thicker and warmer and longer still, and then, before we know it, they'll turn again. Yesterday, my little love, you ate kiwi for the first time; tomorrow, I think I'll give you honeysuckle, just a drop, from the bush down the street that we keep passing. I sometimes worry that we'll miss it, that if we don't hurry, it will bloom and be gone before we ever get out the door.