Do you remember when we were little how we ate oranges so
very carefully because if you swallow that
seed a little plant will start growing in your stomach, honey. But as we
grew older that was no longer a fear, not because “we knew better” but because
our bodies grew with our minds, and as we began to think darker thoughts we
became cold caves where no plant would ever dare to grow. I miss the days when
I thought shooting stars could really grant wishes, before I learned that they
were merely pieces of dust and rock burning as they crossed the atmosphere. Maybe
it is too late, but maybe if I keep asking questions and seeing the best in
people and letting my mind wander, maybe I can grow a garden around my heart.
Maybe flowered vines will embroider my ribs and delicate tulips that look like
colorful little porcelain cups will collect sunshine above my tummy. And maybe
I will pick a bouquet of these flowers and give them to you, and to him, and to
her, and maybe we will all be children again.
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