Clunk.
A hickory nut falls from an overhead branch, smacking me square between the shoulder blades.
I'm startled.
Pay attention.
I suck my mind back into my head. It was spreading like a puddle, evaporating into nowhere.
So I focus my eyes on what's real in front of me. On my lap. On the dusty baby footprint on my skirt. It will brush away when I stand.
The girls come careening past, naming me a character in their game. They're on some imaginary adventure, circling around swings, slide, and sandbox. We'll come back when we're married, they call.
I watch them run, following their path with my eyes.
Pay attention, the sky tells me. They grow so fast.
