clouds in Denver

The grass was soft, a cushion. His neck was being tickled, his chin was being stroked by the breeze. The sun was bright and hung high in the sky. He stared ahead, eyes open comfortably. Not too big, not too small. He kicked off his shoes and sighed in delight, a little shiver as the wind tickled his feet. The sounds of nature whispered to him. The grass as it swayed by his ears. The soft thump thump on the earth as the bunnies hopped around, unafraid, looking for food. That evening, there would be the sizzle of a barbecue, and warmth lights staring out from the windows, unwavering. The sky would be twinkling with stars. The city would glow with lights, like so many unblinking fireflies. And here, from this castle on the hill. Figurative hill. Figurative castle. Though if anything were a modern castle, in a village of castles, this would be it. Beautiful house beside him. His favorite place in the whole world. It allowed him an escape from his home. There was so much love and warmth, things that were not present elsewhere. Things that were not present where he came from. But when he came here, he always felt at home. She laid out the chocolates. There was always junk food stocked up. She always made it feel so warm. Even though the air conditioning was always excessive. Even though the place was so cold. His heart was light. Happy. The pool table downstairs. The plush sofas and the projector where he had seen Independence Day and King Kong. The small exercise room with a treadmill, a bike, and a multipurpose machine. The bathroom attached to it where he would try to drown himself in ten years. But for now. No. Not now. The foosball table. The pool table that he would enjoy once he understood how to play. The carpeted floors and stairs, carpets so soft and thick you’d sink in with every step. The huge open lobby. Small dining table by it. Huge kitchen. He enjoyed being there. In that kitchen. The commonly used dining table that overlooked the patio and the back lawn. The huge dining room. Unused. But gilded gold. The work room and study. The four rooms upstairs. This was a place where he enjoyed being. Always. Basketball court outside. Half court. And for now, he lay in the front lawn. Staring above. Clouds were drifting lazily. For the first and last time in his life, he did this all American thing. He found a face in the clouds. He found a cap. Some balls. Mountains. And then he stopped seeing anything. Maybe he wasn’t imaginative enough. Maybe he didn’t believe in delusion. But being here, it felt like he was living in a fairy tale. Peace. Harmony. A soft cushion of grassy green. He turned his head to his side with a sigh and saw a solitary ant climbing up a stall of grass. For that moment, they were one.