Oak Park Library is currently closed and will re-open on Monday, Dec. 18 at 9 a.m.
I miss running down the street with you at half past 3
When your dad dropped you off after softball practice on Sunday afternoons.
And there was never anything more than grass stains on white pants and empty soda cans that my mom told me to throw away two hours ago.
When we finally start talking to each other after the fall, huddling on the side of the island where the black-eyed humans can’t hear us, we all tell the same story. A day that started with the sun rising and waking up and going off to whatever it is we do during the day.
I am from hard worn leather beneath my feet.
Watching my second home from my favorite place,
4 feet above the ground.
From sounds of gymnastics filling my ears
to a layer of chalk and sweat that coats everything from my
legs to the inside of my throat
A cool breeze shuffled my hair, causing deep chestnut strands to tangle in my eye lashes. As my purse swung loosely at my hip, I slowly lifted my hand to shield my defenseless eyes against the brilliant sun. I exhaled deeply, letting the awe and amazement settle in the pit of my stomach.
Bumping the van, our holey road twists
onto the dark side of each mountain,
drawing us into night and the nervousness
of a stranger at the wheel in an unfamiliar place.
The stars are swallowed, the moon gone
from the rough highway and jagged peaks.
Memories, oh memories those fine grains of sand
Escape between your fingers to the beating of the band
Murmuring in harmony upon a demure heart
Oh what a lovely pas de deux in which we find our part
Rows of fleeting smiles and a million bluebird skies
The light tapping of rain, loud at first, but slowly becoming weaker and weaker, grabs me; takes hold. I open the squeaky front door and peek a single foot outside. The vivid green grass begs for me to be a companion while it slowly moves in the ever-slightest of winds. So I walk...