Sparkly rain boots stomped into puddles Little wisps of her brown hair fell from her braids It was a dreary day But for a three year old, it was a perfect day

She woke that morning like she did most mornings Disheveled and running The energy of nine normal people balled into one small figure Three inches from her mother’s nose, she loudly pronounced, “Mommy!”

Eyes half closed and a bit startled but not surprised, her mother shuffled out of bed.

Breakfast.

Hair glued to her cheek by syrup Tummy full Between gulps of milk, she called out to the kitty sniffing the crumbs at her feet Distracted, she noticed it. Rain.

“Can we, can we?!” she begged her mother. A nod was all she needed to bolt to the door. Struggles ensued as Mommy wriggled the unworn rubber boots onto her feet. Jacket on. Ready to splash.

Big belly laughs and smiles as wide as could be Her mother took mental pictures and about four hundred digital ones too Fat rain plopped on her nose and rippled on flooded ground A beam of sunlight peaked through

Looking up, rain tapped her little face Clouds separated and blue sky began to fill in The droplets slowed. Her finger pointed toward the sky. “Mommy! The sun!”

Wrapped in her mother’s embrace, she started to question. Oh the questions a three year old has. Most of them philosophical by mistake, stumbling parents think quickly. Mommy knew everything. She could always count on that.

To her surprise, amidst the onslaught of “whys” Her mother did the most incredible thing. “Do you think the sun gets lonely up there?” Mommy asked.

Perhaps like mother like daughter, her eyes darted seeking an answer. Surely Mommy knew, but maybe she just forgot? Mommy knew everything, after all. But this once, she was here to help.

With frizzy, slept in braids and a bit of leftover breakfast by her temple, she had a job to do.

Her face scrunched, brow sharply pointing to her wrinkled nose. A split second thought, “oh no, poor Sun!” But just as quickly, met with the undeniable truth Seven hues pierced the sky with its presence

“No Mommy,” she spoke with confidence Little finger pointed high, “Rainbow!”

In your arms, I found my home. You held me at your heart, so tender. This moment of joy is so surreal. How is it I will never remember?

The room surrounding is cold and vast. So different from where I came But with a stroke of my face as you sing to me It resembles much the same.

Embraced at last, waiting all these months But I’ve known your touch forever. The melody as you hum soothes me And you whisper, “we’ll always be together.”

The warmth of your love keeps me safe. Our bodies weave through each other. Your lungs teach mine to step in rhythm.
How lucky am I, I think, that you are my mother.

Their eyes connected, but hers were that of a stranger. Still, warmth radiated from the stare. As she pulled herself upright, two legs wobbling with uncertainty of the soil’s stability, she did not look away from her. What had she done?

Kaya and the elders made no sound, trembling beneath their paws at the sight before them. Awena had leapt into the iridecent pool of water in search of a miracle for the pack. The legend was deceitful for certain. For when she emerged from the pond she was enchanted, but at what cost?

Lifting the limbs where her sturdy paws once lived, she discovered she now possessed delicate features, long and thin with claws that could not protect her. Awena’s eyes darted to the elders, then back at Kaya. How could she lead them now? Kaya let out a howl, but Awena’s new ears must have been broken for she could not understand her. Awena began to speak, her voice cracking and tongue flopping in confusion of where to land. Terror fell upon the pack as they realized communication would not be possible. Awena was on her own now. With unsure footing, she set out to find the answer.

The pages brown and crisp turn Careful to read what the scroll will unfold When despair meets opportunity And all the noise surrounding falls silent

Mesmerized by the glow and the power To combine and create and bend reality Give in to the desire Become the unimaginable

Beauty, time, luck and awe Clouding reason, soon too strong Swift to mix another batch Flawed, but still indulged

Grotesque addiction unable to see The world as it was has faded, all black Taken by the glimmer Spines cracked to opened charms

All consumed, yet bewitching even so To escape? Or embrace? Magic comes with a price, are you willing to pay?

It’s Tuesday, I think. To be honest I’m still half asleep and wish we had another week of winter break. I step off the mud-snow soaked bus steps, taking one earbud out. I can hear Peyton’s feet crunch on the salted sidewalk behind me, trying to catch up so we can see who got better Christmas presents. Probably him. Not much of a competition since his dad works in tech and my parents just run the local bakery.

He’s always got the latest gadget, meanwhile I’m still using wired buds. I tried convincing the parents to buy me the new iPhone this year, but Mom huffed at that saying, “Just because it’s paid off doesn’t mean you need a new one Tyler.” I bet Peyton got one. He probably didn’t even have to ask for it.

Oh, here he comes. Commence the bragging.

“Hey Pey-“ I say, pulling my voice back as I realize the crunchy footsteps belong to someone in obnoxious purple Uggs. I look up from the sidewalk, definitely not Peyton. Purple Uggs, a puffy black coat, and neon green headphones are walking beside me toward the school. My eyes dart back to the ground, staring at my feet. But I can’t keep them down, I need to know who’s wearing those disgusting Uggs and dope headphones.

I slow my pace a little, let her pass, and creep my eyes up again. Black hair, curly. Long. Wild. Kind of like springs coming out all over? Her headphones could pop off her head any second. Her backpack is plain, just a black Nike bag. But there’s a pin on it. I can’t tell what it says, so I pick up my pace a little to get a better look. The crunch of my footsteps quickens, and suddenly, her head turns back at me.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

My eyes bolt back to my shoes. She CANNOT know. What kind of a weirdo would she think I am?

“Sweet skully” I hear her half yell over the sound of whatever probably sick music’s playing in her ear. I feel every single set of eyes within earshot burning into my Foo Fighters merch hat and know at least one starting basketball player will be echoing that line later while snatching it off my head to play keep away. Weirdly, I think she meant it?

Still staring at my muddy, snowy shoes, I mutter back, “Uhh, thanks, yeah.” I shove my other earbud back in and try to disappear, but my shoes are crunching into the salted sidewalk as loud as a rock tumbler in a library. I quicken my pace, gotta get to my locker and find Peyton.

But as I near the door, I see those lame purple Uggs standing there. I look up at her, headphones nestled around her neck, under the coils of hair, of course. Her eyes are pools of deep, warm chocolate. They’re soft and kind; not the kind of eyes that’d see my hat as an opportunity for some Tuesday morning bullying.

“My mom met Dave Grohl once,” she declares as if she’s used that sentence in one too many ice breakers. But even then, I’m entranced by her voice. It’s smooth, but powerful.

“I’m Gia, by the way.”

Every word in the book has left my brain, so instead of responding like a normal person, I do the only thing I can think and gesture for Gia to go in through the door first. As I follow behind trying to remember my own name, I notice the pin on her backpack. Foo Fighters. I guess Gia’s the only name I’ll ever need to know anyway.

We live in a land where the footprints of ghosts linger. Where the footsteps of our children give hope for a better future. A future of compassion and collaboration and living in truth. But the footprints of ghosts linger still on the ground. The masses shout “progress!” in hushed little voices. While the past bellows through the few in bolsterous choices. Red with hate, blue with silence. Which direction will the footsteps of our children run?