I put the tape in the camera, pressing play.
An image of my own being flickered across, as she smiled at me and told me several incoherent words. I clutched a miniature pillow as I continued to watch the scene unfold before me, afraid to walk forward but unhappy to watch such a time that I have no recollection of.
I had stumbled into her arms with child-like gibberish gushing from my lips. Her own had formed a wide smile, one that shone a million shades of happiness, of pink and white. Hugging my pillow further, I paused the tape, my breaths shallow and quickened. Launching myself from my place on the couch, I threw a blanket over my overheating form and stood at the screen door, listening.
If I listen hard enough, could I hear her?
But if I hear her, would she participate as well?
I listened with all my heart, hands clawing at the material of my blanket as I let it collapse at my feet. My fingers itched to find comfort, to latch onto support as a child that's learning to walk. In this instance, I suppose I was a child, one without any concept of time.
I cried several times in desperation, crying for some kind of sign.
All that returned was the pounding in my chest, radiating from head to toe. I sunk to the ground, remaining on my knees as I watched cars pass by with ease.
I listened for her, all I heard was you.
YOU ARE READING
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poetry[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
