Monday, April 09, 2007
Make A List of All the Little Things I Miss
I dream of flying. We all dream of flying. I dream I hold myself up, up in the air with my inhalations and the way in which I push the air out of my lungs and past my lips. I float above houses and tree tops, exhaling in smooth, even breaths. In my dream I am teaching you to fly but you are stubborn, or ashamed, or afraid and you never manage to lift off the ground more than a foot or two. And now, I can’t remember your face in the dream, or if you were disappointed, or sad, only that I flew, that you didn’t because you wouldn’t, and that I loved to fly.
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3 comments:
You're blog always makes me feel like I ought to curl up in a giant old chair wrapped in a fluffy blanket pulled straight from the dryer with a mug of hot cocoa.
And a better cat.
that's funny. that's how i feel when i write it, except with coffee.
Bears can't drink coffee. It makes us smell like airplanes.
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