two . . .

My grandpa’s cat, who licked salt off my skin

and purred and curled, warm,

to nap in the crook of my arm.

three . . .

My sixth-grade classroom.

Books and pencil shavings.

How tall I would raise my hand.

four . . .

Grammy’s warm spiced milk to help me sleep.

five . . .

Afternoons in the backyard sunshine.

Shovels and soil and ferns in pots.

six . . .

The evening news. The old plaid sofa.

seven . . .

Chopping apples for pie.

Cinnamon and butter.

eight . . .

Sleepovers with Hayley, whispers after lights-out.

nine . . .

Grandpa and me, pushing the grocery cart down the aisles.

ten

Soft sheets, my mother singing a lullaby.

I know I could

Always be good

To one

Who’ll watch over me

I was lifted from the grass by many hands, placed into outstretched arms. Someone carried me into my cabin. Someone pulled back the sheets and tucked me in. A kiss on my forehead, a smoothing of my hair. Quiet footsteps, low murmurs.

“Think she’s warm enough?”

“I’ll rekindle the fire.”

“Is she okay?”

“Shhhh. Let her sleep.”

___

I had come to live in a haunted place. A faraway place. Once, I’d despaired at Blake slipping my phone into his pocket. But when Nick had told me there was no reception, I’d said it was okay.

I had come to live away from other people, in a place removed from time. In my part-sleep, part-wakefulness, alone in my silent cabin, I called back Blake’s voice. I wanted to remember. Her name was Lorna. She died last May. And Terry’s, too. I hope you aren’t afraid of ghosts.

At Blake’s, I washed my hair under a spigot. At the farm, I washed my body under the sky. It’s what I was told to do, so I did it.

I turned in my bed, pressed my face to the pillow.

___

Much later, light.

___

Liz stood on a chair to reach the ceiling, covered the skylight with a cloth. Julia, below, handed her pushpins. Darkness again.

___

A glass of water at my lips. “Just one sip and we’ll let you sleep.”

An ache as I swallowed.

My voice, a whisper. “Is it time for lessons?”

“No. Today is for rest.”

___

“Today is for rest,” I repeated once they were gone again.

You don’t feel right, Blake had said. Go lie down.

___

Deep sleep, no dreams, pillow soft against my cheek.

___

Later still. No light through the curtains. Terry’s hand on my shoulder.

“Can you sit up for me, Mila?”

A warm slice of bread. A mug of broth.

“Good. Good.”

Blankets tucked again, door shut again, deep black sleep again.

___

The groan of the door, light footsteps. Weight on my bed, scent of grass. Lee. Quick, tight hug and then gone.

___

Wind through the eucalyptus leaves. Wind through the grasses.

But, no. No reason to doubt them. They had always been kind, always shown me they cared.

My high was meeting Mila.