The Foster House

Suddenly, she’s pullin’ me across the house before I can finish saying thank you. We pass white doors until my eyes are flowered with this pale rose-pink room. I feel like I’m stepping on clouds. My toes dig into the cushioned floor of a pristine pearl carpet. Its fibers reach between my toes and leave my footsteps behind. In the center, against the wall, a dark sea-green cover drapes over a full-sized bed. It must be stuffed with the finest swan feathers to create such a luxurious plush. She throws the cover up and jumps inside. I worry I might lose her like Alice in a rabbit hole. I throw the cover up and find her lying inside. Her hair sprawls in royal swirls made of Indian silk shining like gold marble. She clambers out to the light where her gray tinted skin shows its tarnishings. Closer and closer, her face is inches from mine and suddenly I find myself resting against what I imagine angel cake must feel like. Her eyes remain the same innocent doe-sloped buttons I remember. With pearly whites that must have been decorated with the most expensive blue oil paints. Ones that swirl with shades and hues of an overly saturated Starry Night. Ones that glow brighter than stars and bleed softer than watercolor. Both topped with the finest varnish only a god could have crafted and poured flawlessly into her pockets for eyes. 

Her legs lay at my sides with the weight of a cat's paws. Our breaths waltz in sync as our bellies press together gently. I hold her dainty feet in the palms of my hands…..and then I remember. Remember it’s my job to protect such fragileness and I don’t know if I’m qualified. I get scared all over again.