Yesterday, with my one year old son strapped to my back, I walked to the supermarket in search of limes. It was cold out, and the soft flurries of snow entertained my son by making a slight sound every time they landed on my umbrella.
When I got to the store, it was out of limes, so I headed over to a second nearby grocery store. On the way there, I passed my children’s school. My elder son and daughter had told me earlier in the week that the recent earthquake had torn a crack in the ground between the school playground and the school pool. Curious, I decided to check it out.
As I walked around the side of the school, I came upon a pile of acorns that some child must have collected and left behind. It brought back a flood of memories, memories of my first two children filling their pockets with acorns, bringing them home by the dozens, wanting to keep them in the house, wanting to paint faces on them and make crafts with them, being, by and large, amazed by them.
Thinking of those memories, I smiled. And then I realized that my latest child, now asleep on my back, would be doing the same thing in a year or two, which is something that I suddenly began looking forward to.
passing through my
closed eyelids
cars go another way
I go my way
the self I had left behind
in your letter
after a long vacation
the road twice as long
winter in the north
summer in the south
can you fit into a bottle
of whiskey
this pile of acorns
your future treasure
