“Caretaker.”
Today, I am here.
My mother had this green Bankers Lamp. You know the kind.
The one your grandmother, or great aunt had in the den.
On the table next to the couch that nobody was supposed to sit on.
I remember Summers spent sun kissed.
Cicadas buzzed loudly in the rafters of my back patio.
The desert all around me.
Rumors that if you were to look at the sun for too long, you’d go blind.
Afternoons were spent burning my corneas, nights spent skating barefoot with the “big kids.”
I wear glasses now.
Then there were trees.
More trees than I thought could exist.
When we moved, my sister was five years old, and in love with the movie “Land Before Time.”
I remember thinking,
“If this isn’t the Great Valley, then I don’t know what is.”
Years passed.
Mostly faded, from the light of the unkempt.
I lay half awake, half cognizant.
Secretly listening to conversations not meant for my ears.
The smell of sterile medical cleaning solutions burning my nose.
Today, I am here.
(Follow Hannah on Instagram at @lovely_lady_muse)