Rapid City

Today I took a walk around the park next door, as a cold front blew in. I miss the cold, grass that doesn't hide burrs, the spicy scent of dried leaves. When I smelled that, my heart ached for the giant piles of leaves I used to jump into as a child. I walked next to the little stream that reflected the steel grey-blue of the sky. Imagined what it would be like to sit in that park in the summer. The stab of ache made me cry. I know it would be ridiculous to hope to see the rose garden in bloom. To one day find this place familiar. To hope this strongly makes disappointment all the harder. But I know that, should we need to be here, we will.