Once I could touch the sun. I could hug their fiery photosphere. Wash them with starlight, before sending them off to school.
After the divorce came the Fall. I could still see them, but the distance - things just got a little cooler. Moods changed, from bright green to more sober colors. Sometimes I'd feel like I was just floating, drifting on some uncaring wind.
On Thanksgiving day 2010, I was told they were moving to Florida, the farthest point from the sun. Icicles were on my face by the afternoon. I could see my breath, words like "You'll get them this summer. They won't forget you. Use Skype for video calls." More cicles, crying like a bitch. Angry, confused, frustrated, but still willful. I would see them soon.
One thing I've learn about my orbit is that it never stops. I set small fires at the cave's mouth. Stored fruits and vegetables. Sent presents from the amazon. Always prayed to the stars, always knew my season would come.
Now, I can see green beneath my toes. The earth doesn't resist me as she once did. Hope, laughter, more dirty dishes are coming into view. It's summertime...
Photo: Lamp light through glass cup taken with iPhone3Gs, Hipstamatic app (Jimmy, Blanko Noir)
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