Jia’s lemon tea is red with leaf brew. It is like her : all pressured to be a safe mom. Her 2 year old isn’t speaking yet, she worries. (We meet for the first time through a mutual friend. The child has a face like a waiting dawn: fascinated I play with her in the floor mat).
Bini – the child loves Incy wincy spider whom she met at kindergarten today. We do a spider dance with our fingers; hers are tiny in mine. Dearest God, the child has light spilling off her ears! She likes Piggie snorts that she heard on kid TV. We do Piggie snorts and get the giggles. Bini starts speaking long sentences now- her words seem to jumble but she’s telling me about Jelly bears and cup cakes all at once with Incy Wincy wiggles, Piggie snorts and million syllables choreographed in toddler tumbles. Jia grins,
“More tea?” Her voice is happy silk; she has large black doe eyes that begin to dance at Bini dragging in a raggedy zebra with one eye and matted mane. More tea steams in gaudy mint: Jia’s piggy snorts are now beyond my decibels. I grab a sip and let the lemon in my throat. Laughter changes the pressure, like Light does. Joy weighs me out : its unruly garments tumbling us out to play ~ Jia looking like a child herself…
the pressure of light dances its brew in our skin dawn to dusk to dawn
At d’Verse, writers were prompted to compose haibun on the theme of ‘pressure’.
Leave a reply to Björn Rudberg (brudberg) Cancel reply