“On the childhood I couldn’t have”,
It probably would have been nice. To eat without thinking of next week, to listen to Erykah Badu, to have a house I’d own one day, to have some land, to have a cat or two, to be polyglotte, to go outside and sit on the lawn, to go outside and sit on the patio, to go outside and sit by a tree, to go outside and climb up and sit in a hollowed-out tree trunk (Mama would say it’s been there since Grandma was my age), to think, to write, to invite friends over, to have friends, to build a treehouse, to go up into the treehouse when im mad at Mama, to take my friends up into the treehouse, to have my first kiss there, to stumble out afterwards, confused, dazed, with a doped-out smile on my face, to collapse in the soil afterwards, brown, dark, with a little wood chips here and there, to look up into the sun with the breeze, knowing i too will die someday, will be like Grandma, but to choose not to think about it for now, to have the choice matter and stay, to enter savasana. But then again, I can never know. Maybe next lifetime. ♦