In my memory, the sun always shines. The sky always blue with blousy clouds. The grass is
always green and so soft that you can walk barefoot and never find a stone.
The sunflowers shine with crooked teeth. Miniature versions of suns. We camped near
the smiling plants. Our house on wheels traveled easily. It wasn’t lonely. There were always
cousins and neighbors.
Silent, secret languages among children, subtle cues. Talk, the grownups never noticed.
The sound of laughter, music, and wine at night.
Mamma made me a beautiful skirt. How I loved twirling, feeling the wind. We danced
together until the skirt got tangled, and I fell, giggling.
