I had a dream right before I woke up. You and I were some of the last to flee a natural disaster and a beautiful home where we lived with many people. We left by ship in dangerous rains. We sailed and sailed in all kinds of real and tumbled-together craft until we finally spotted land. Men jumped from their rafts and swam to the shore. The few men already on the beach spoke enough English and welcomed us, and you and I immediately began helping in a cafeteria prepared for all of us refugees. After eating a sandwhich, a slice of apple pie and another desert, we were sitting with a group of Latinas that reminded me of my cousins growing up — all big hair and make-up. They were beautiful and sweet.
My body ached and I was so tired. I wanted a third desert, but my crush from years ago (the one I talked about for so long, who sweetly told me he only wanted friendship) was among the refugees, and I felt like I would lose face were I to go get another. You got up for a quick reason, and the Latinas remarked on how close we were and how we always remarked on our make-up, which we never do, and I thought this odd and ironic.
Finally I went outside to walk around and gather my peace. We were in a new country, a new land, a new culture. They spoke English but one could tell it was not their native tongue. I passed by homes with families going about their day. I remembered seeing a group of boys joyfully playing with their fathers. One home had put their trash out by the curb, and it must have snowed recently, because next to the rubbish was a small pile of ice pieces. Looking closer, I realized that some were beautifully, naturally formed into shapes of angles, bears and other creatures. I decided I must bring one back for you, but each one I picked up was so fragile, it broke in my hands. Finally, one of a gremlin with butterfly wings held firmly and did not crack or melt. It wasn't as beautiful as the rest, but I was bringing it to you and our new life together, and that was all that mattered.
No comments:
Post a Comment