EVERYTHING

Before I knew we were poor, Everything was magic. An empty fridge meant freezer-burnt Popsicles for dinner. Purple-blue mouths and toothless smiles calmed the torment in my mother’s crux. Everything was an adventure. A shared bedroom with my little brother meant an eternal playmate. A warm tent, closed off by a blanket hung from a bunk bed and a hair dryer snuck under the sheets to keep warm. Arctic explorers waiting for a rescue unit. Everything was a mystery. Voices resounding from the living room vehemently snaking through the short halls of the apartment. And then one day, I had Everything And Everything was over too soon.