Rain Walk

I remember playing with fresh kittens on a morning like this. By the time the mother let us find them, they were probably two weeks old. Still clumsy and so curious. One had a “cold in its eye,” at least that is what my step mother told me. The poor thing has mucous all around one eye. I was told not to touch him. Of course, that kitten was the only one I wanted to play with. I feel kind of like that kitten right now. paying so much attention to my steps makes me feel shaky, as though I am learning how to walk all over again. The uneven groud throws me off. This is like walking on a tiled floor when each one is a different height. My feet are still soggy. I can smell the damp grass on them. Canvas shoes soak through quickly. White canvas. It is still white. I had expected grass stains or mud but its just the white canvas, red and black rubber. damp. I saw them as I stepped over the fence, the post having fallen perfectly so that people can easily step over it. Convinient for us. The wood is fuzzy with moss and I feel motivated to pick the small bits off, to push against the damp wood and feel it bend under my finger. The green moss against the mottled brown fence is striking, I could watch it for hours and at the moment, it felt like that is all I would do for days. I wasn’t zoned out, but it felt like everything had been paused. It was hard to imagine being somewhere other than that spot, right by the fence looking at the moss. There are classrooms? Just the moss.

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