JACARANDAS BENEATH FOAMPOSITES

JACARANDAS BENEATH FOAMPOSITES

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Almost a year later, there are jacarandas under us again.

The first time, I let him hold one. He carried it through Carthay Square for nearly thirty minutes. He let go. I caught it. He let go again. I caught it again. We made a game out of a fallen bloom and the timing between us.

This time, we were walking in Century City.

There were no jacarandas falling.

I put him down near the petals. He did not object. He reached for them and stayed there for a few seconds before continuing the walk.

That was enough.

Enough to feel the return.
Enough to notice the difference.

Last year, the flower stayed in his hand.

This time, only his sneakers are in the frame.

And somehow it still feels like catching.