Today has been tough. My old friends are long gone. Grief and bottle caps litter the streets. The stench of Wild Turkey and urine mingle with wisps of the remaining fog that the sun left unnoticed. My walk home mimicked my mood — somber and breathless. Before I even realized my quickened pace to exit that place, I was nearing the main drag that cut through town going east and west. I could hear the faint crescendo of children playing in the distance. School’s out for summer, so I can’t reconcile where they might be. I cross Jeff Davis near the church heading toward the convent, but there’s no sign of the children.
I must appear to be lost or crazy chasing Hope’s progeny, but I didn’t care. I just needed to see them, to resuscitate my heavy heart, to come up out of this funky grave so that I can breathe in their laughter and allow their giggles to course through my veins — to sync my heart with their Miss Mary Macks and double dutch rhythms. Ooooh child. Things are gonna get brighter some day.