The Lawn

I grew up in a house that had a huge green lawn in the backyard. It ended at the edge of a steep hill. When I stood on it, I felt suspended as if I was floating just above the small town below. I remember basking in the sun on this soft, pampered suburban lawn-- hot summer afternoons made it too hot to move, no breeze, and lizards scurrying by to break the silence, interrupt daydreams. As I think back to being eye-level in that green blade jungle; I think of all the feet that have crossed there. Bare feet and boots, high-heels and the delicate hooves of deer-- All the memories that have walked away.