I remember the feeling of my bare feet bouncing on a cushion of grassy field.
Hollywood-wannabe women lounged on towels, wearing large sunglasses and blonde wigs,
draped in dresses the color of strawberry stains. They ignored me.
A dead baby bird was caught in my hair, and when I ripped it out and threw it on the ground,
it became a carpenter ant.
I watched it struggle, upside down, its small legs peddling searching for ground in the sky,
and it grasped the plastic drainage pipe near its head and slowly flipped itself upright.
I ran away, fearing its return transformation into a bird.
I was in Milwaukee at a campground-looking place
A firepit surrounded by logs on a circle of bare dirt that stretched 30 feet was at my right.
A copse of trees served as a curtain for the hill with long steps cut into it where women lounged and gossiped.
My parents arrived and told me they were about to drive to Chicago to see a musician.
(In real life, they had never gone to a concert together. The only live shows my mother had seen were Jeff Dunham ((with my father)), an Elvis impersonator ((with her friend, Brenda)), and the Manheim Steamroller Orchestra ((with me)).)
Her friends, Brenda and Terry appeared and asked how long it would take to drive to Chicago after 5:30
"You're crazy! It will take 4 hours!" They looked like sad puppy dogs in response.
"I'll be at home," I continued. "Stop by if you can't make it in time."
As I loped down the hill's many wide flat-topped steps, I heard the same music float through my ears
though still out of reach, I wanted to ask Siri to listen to the song for me,
and I reached for my phone but quickly decided the technology would likely just pick up the overlapping voices of the women around me.
Instead, I listened for lyrics that I could search later.
"I'm glad to be your lover, won't you be mine" or something like that.
I reached the bottom of the hill, and I stumbled into my parents' backyard.
The bird clamped tightly to my hair. The hush of the country. The clear skies and our big off-white house.
I entered the side door and surprised my sister.
"What are you doing home?!"
"Our parents are going to Chicago..."
My mother appeared.
"Hi sweetie."
"I was worried you wouldn't make it."
Gentle laughter.
"Leaving soon. Goodbye!"
"Ok...Goodluck."
We hug. I hug her. She begins to break away and my arms tighten around her shoulders.
I don't want to let go so soon.
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