I had the greenest grass the girls at school had ever seen. My parents
saw fit to keep things manicured. I rested, unconcerned with stains or bug bites, for
what could have been hours or days. All the same for pretty me. Cherished me. Nurtured me. Things
happened and I, laying in the grass, did not blink or wince. I, fingering the blades
and blowing kisses to hippos in the sky, did not know or flinch. Except to bat at a hairstreak’s kiss.
I had the softest grass a girl could hope to lay in. But somewhere, life had happened and someone
cried.
Feb '14
