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February 22, 2011
Sun-baked rocks balanced on my skin. Warm as a touch. Warm as the heartbeat of a baby animal, fluttering as it teeters on the edge of my leg.

"Do it again! Do it again!"

Not again.

Then I'll do it myself. Pile rocks on my shoes as if anchoring my feet to the sand, as if they can weigh down the growing, blooming hope in my mind.

"Steady now." daddy says. "Gotta keep your feet planted on the ground. Keep your head out of the clouds."

I shake off the rocks. A release from reality.

Run away with me?