Memorized by innocence

Peeking through narrow holes and edgy corners, her eyes are peeled on me with an innocent smile stretched horizontally across her pale freckled face. In one hand she holds a wooden bar, tipped with a fur horse head. In the other, she anxiously paces her fingers across the worn leather wrapped around her new friends head, along with an orange six dollar price tag. My eyes were so heavy, but i was easily focused on her.  She wore a white and grey stripped sweater with light colored Levi's, which came awkwardly high above her ankles.  Her feet were tucked into dirty white vans with grey and pink plaid patterns.  I sit, tiredly, on a brown futon that does not belong to me and after a few passing minutes of playing a game of hide and seek, but with our eyes, she strolls over and sits down next to me. Brothers and gifts and holidays and cousins; the sorts of things she tells me about. Her waved and pressed red hair securely hangs down the edges of her face and along the back of her small head. Blue eyes and freckles consume her pale face. Smiles and laughter are exchanged for a few pleasurable minutes. At that age, i too would be running through ails chasing brothers. I observe as she has a tickle attack with her three year old brother, after he reveals himself sprinting towards her. Another, age of twelve, downloads her favorite song on his new cell phone. Raggedy hair and stained clothes, yet all beautifully characterized. I'm appreciating the presence of this small soul. Her voice rings in my delicate ears as i watch her restless legs spin while sitting. She rocks herself; i wonder if i would feel more secure if i were to rock myself. "Monica!" Her name was called. I watch as she sits up, curls her arms, and tucks her small head in for a hug. Surprised, i reach downwards and hug her back and watched as she galloped away. "Bye Monica!" I'm not used to hugging strangers sober...

I used to be six and in 1st grade, too.