The warm sun tingling on my skin on a spring morning. Dew on the grass, the first presence of flowering buds on the trees. Birds singing and a light breeze blowing my hair. Smells like damp earth and honeysuckles. Children running bare foot in the yard with the deepest belly giggles, it makes me grin from ear to ear. A dog at my side rubbing his head on my thigh. New life in my womb squirming around as if it too wants to come out and play. Big strong hands sliding across my stomach and a presence that feels like coming home after years of being away. I took my first look at you across the room, a stranger, and that is what I saw. Then you smiled at me and I thought surely my heart would burst.
About the Creator
Summer McDaniel
As a child I could create a story out of no where at anytime. Then I got lost in the world of stable jobs, financial gain, and intelligence over creativity. Join me as I attempt to reclaim my creativity!
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More stories from Summer McDaniel and writers in Poets and other communities.
We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctic3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
I love the imagery you created in this piece. Sounds like a pretty perfect morning to me. Great work! 👍