These Lovely Cities

On the horizon are entire cities floating like ships on water. If you listen closely, the sea breeze guides the voices from the distance. They’re full of simple phrases, a couple of I love you’s, a couple more okay’s. Now and then, there are some exclmation point endings, quick banters, nothing too serious, between husband and wife, mother and daughter, strangers on the street.

And there is a scent of-- what is it-- some bacon frying on a griddle, nearly ready to be served on the white-clothed tables, sweetness of the wine poured into crystal, a concoction of women’s perfume and the open door of a bakery. You may see a silhouette, or a few, of a person bending over to pick up a coin on the street, of a wedding party on the shore this clear-skied day, of the circus that came in town a few days back. You can nearly feel the sensation of giddiness, that of one caused by hours of dancing, spinning, twirling with partners whose skills you could care less about.

Over there, everything is lovely.

Yet you hate to admit that there is an entire ocean between you and them. Where you stand is darkness, silence, the absence of names. In your hand, a pebble, and you thrust it with all the might in your right arm and upper back, a twist in the hip and a placement of a foot, with the form of a professional pitcher, hoping that this pebble would reach the other side, a little hello to be picked up by a silhouette and brought into life.

But the little one summons you for supper: broth and water. This week’s ice cubes still in the freezer, reserved for the clear-skied days that are dreaded, for the sun can be both friend and foe. You kick the sand behind you and head home.

You try to light the flame without being bothered, but the little one wraps around your leg, eager to be by your side, willing to feel your love. You shuffle their hair, and they look up to you with their big, gleaming eyes, reflecting the small fire that burns beside. In them you see cities more grand, more extravegant than those too far to hold. In their eyes are mountains and valleys, rich rivers streaming through fields, joy for the millions to those who shine like stars in these eyes. For there in your hand is the world.