lighter shades of eyes let in more light, she tells me, and i smile, my eyes green-blue. that’s good, i whisper.
and there it is, in the outline of the leaves falling and aiden and i are chasing it, this light, in the woods by our house. aiden, babbling to the bush and swinging his arms and pointing, as if to tell me the names for things and i open my eyes wider and try to see.
sometimes shadows get in the way of the light. sometimes there are too many unpaid bills. too many items on the list and too many unanswered messages and you just need to go for a walk. with a basket, the one that normally holds your slippers which now lay scattered across the living room floor.
the handle is coming un-twined but he swings it as he walks and he looks older than he should.
we are young in the leaves, throwing them high over our heads and staring into the sky where the light is born. and if we stare long enough and then blink the light takes flight like moths. hundreds of white moths.
aiden’s eyes are hazel. we’re walking home now, and i hold his hand. i hope that somehow we can hold hands forever and i can share my light with him. the candle that is in me, that is God. the candle which attracts the moths when i open my eyes wide then blink.