By Jelisa Gonzalez | November 6, 2023
Photo Credit: Adobe Stock Images
I look up at the trees lining the hills,
As pillars to my greater childhood virtues
Ecstatic rushes of humility burn my stomach,
Making me feel, all at once, young again
Rolling on two wheels to the end of the hill
A light and a honk
Give the indicator that my life was preserved
I smile and continue to play with the butterflies in my stomach
Allowing my face to be pummeled by pressured water
Running to the opposite side of the rubber
Gripping my fingers to the clanging metal
Swishing my feet from side to side
As I tire from just that,
I carry myself to the fortress where all the little devils played,
Gossiping,
Wisping from one tail end to the other
Smirks paint their face, not so much to know if they are
Friend or foe
Instead, I walk to the water box
Where the little devils filled colored latex
And direct them to opposing party heads
Just as I make way to leave,
My mother hands me green
My face lights up with glee
And she allows me to order that corner slice,
Alone
But I know,
Trudging up that hill,
Slice in hand, two-wheeler on the other, that I can
Bask in the beauty that is my briarwood