(no subject)
It’d been a few days since I’d left the house. In the balmy weather, everything had grown. The ditch weeds were now taller than my children and I could’ve sworn entire trees had sprouted up in neglected lots.
We drove past the kids’ old school- past the graffiti’d bridge that now read “black lives matter”- and found the playground overtaken by a mound of sawdust, and the field a smooth new road. Things had changed.
We came home to hummingbirds fighting in the blackberry bushes and our blind cat covered in loose fur and wormy summer pinecones and bumping into our patio furniture.