Originally posted on Literary Traces
We didn’t have any lawn chairs, so we just sat down on the roof, sticky with loquat, to watch the sun setting. Sometimes we would pretend the lanai was in a tropical place, and if we tried really hard, the freeway sounded just like the ocean.
It was new to me, sleeping in the open air. And it was perfect. I never wanted four walls around me again. Except for on the extra-cold nights. And that handful of times the neighbors did things that didn’t smell so great or sound so great. Or when I was on my period. I liked the walls, then; I don’t know why.
The cat enjoyed the futon under the lanai, too. We would pile blankets over us and then he would curl up atop, like a bow on a present. It was all cat breath and gentle breeze.
He is gone now, and I wonder who sleeps under the roof of the lanai.
This evening I watch the sun setting through the trees, behind the hills, instead of through buildings and behind the fence.
I feel the gentle breeze on my face and go inside to sleep within four walls.
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