03.17.06

there were eggs then too

I was smiling in the ever-present rainbow of this upper sunset, looking down on my home and laughing, laughing at how quaint t was and how the cars moved through the street like veins from up here, like blood carrying oxygen back and forth slowly without a heartbeat. The city was small, demarcated its lines, and beyond the city there was black, black fading into red, into orange, into blue, and the sun going down like a burning ember into the sea.
I think, were we ever so happy? There is a picture of my little brother shortly after he was born, pink, straight hair, eyes half shut, and his hands are small and rosy. There are pictures of my mother smiling with blush on her cheeks, of my father holding my little brother in the air, of me in miles and miles of lace and grinning as if to say, yes, life is perfect.
It was like that for a little while, after he was born. Everything then is like a faded montage of summer memories, clips. One moment we are making a tent underneath the dining room table, and another we are putting up hammocks in the doorway using blankets. I dressed him up and painted his nails, made wigs out of yarn and we had tea parties with bears and rabbits, and his little circus bear. He called them beary and tigery and rabbity, and they would eat muffins with us on my dollar store china.
There is the sound of our bikes running across the apartment tile, doors and everything speeding past because we pedalled so fast, so fast that the streamers on our handles blew behind us in the wind. The neighbours would hear us coming and open the doors, offering us cookies or lemonade or something because it was so hot in the summer sun and I was still there in my dress sweating, he smiling and holding my hand so tight.
It was pink with glitter all over it, with baseball cards in the spokes even though I knew nothing about baseball. The streamers were pink and purple, silver, coming out of white rubber handles that matched the white rubber training wheels that clanked when I turned corners.
That was my only bike.
I rode once, into the arms of my father in the park one day when the dragonflies didn�t scare me. He was so proud, but I couldn�t do it again.

shi-ou-sama at 10:00 p.m.

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