Remember how we searched for sunbeams,
Those rays that fell on everything –
They bounced off our tin-roof house
And pushed through purple wildflower petals
They sprang from the ripples of skipped stones on water
And skated along the tops of clouds
Shafts of light fell from windows and
created channels for dust motes
And there we danced with the floating specks.

Remember the way we felt the rain,
The drops that knocked on our windows –
We mirrored each beat with our fingertips,
Tapping our own rhythm against the glass.
The sky tears fell on our smiling, upturned cheeks;
Our bodies spun in time with nature’s song
And when the water filled our rain boots,
We took them off and ran with barefoot glee
Through the storm. 

Remember how we played –
Last night’s rainwater sloshed around
inside the tire swing out back,
Spilling out onto our grassy carpet.
The ropes of our pulley system for apple slices and peanut butter
Dangled from the tree with low branches.
We left scented markers from our drawings of stick figure families
Scattered on the kitchen table
And fairy forts among oak tree roots.

The puffy ballerina skirts were replaced
With torn-on-purpose jeans.
Macaroni necklaces exchanged for mascara and blush,
Then dust motes, drawings, and swing sets
For plane rides, salaries, and wedding rings.

Never forget that we once chased twinkling lightning bugs,
Clutching mason jars with
hole-punched lids.
And sometimes when a thunderstorm
comes my way,
I’ll tap out our song against a windowpane
And swear I hear you tapping back.