To be the mom I needed. Blurring Reality/Something Surreal
As a child, I stand in the middle of our street, across from the elementary school. The dismissal bells ring but the children are not there. The cars that normally line the road and fill the parking lot are missing. I am deserted. Flecks of ash fall lightly around me. The hills are alive with billowing smoke, red plumes poking out of whiteness. Helicopters circle the sky, dropping red powder in the distance. Besides the choppers, there is silence, like the stillness of falling snow, quiet and soft. Fluff floats around me, covering my clothes and hair. My tears fall and mingle with the flecks, turning white ash to streaks of grey lines running down my face.
I watch my little one, across the playground, twirling under the spray on the splash pad. Her eyes are shut tight, her smile spread wide, face tilted to the sky. With arms outstretched, she seems to be trying to catch as much of the water drops as she can. I hear her laughter over the shrieks and calls of the other children. Her little feet stamp puddles, her hair flings streams of water. "Mommy, come dance with me in the rain!" I join my daughter among the kids, and, the only adult on the splash pad, I take her hands and we spin around together.
I laugh as I spin around in the middle of the street, my hands clasped with the woman in front of me. She smiles at me as ashes float around, two helicopters crossing overhead towards the hills.
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