I ALMOST FEEL LIKE I AM ON HOLIDAY
From the patio in my backyard the garden looks sweet and summery. Trees line the fence. Leaves ripple like water in the afternoon sun and the hydrangeas are in full bloom.
At the very back, vegetables are growing, tomatoes coming out green, always green before changing color.
It's hot enough to call summer, but cool enough for me to think.
In the distance the sound of an ice cream truck begins and insects respond with their one note song, voices sustaining as the sun glares down at the pathway leading to the back door with the trick handle, the pavement littered with shattered green glass and dried blood.
With my hands still sticky with apricot vanilla jam, I almost feel like I am on holiday and capable of forgiving you for what you've done to me.