Spotify Wrapped Grab-bag || Accepting! This one's a memory.
TPR - “Aria Di Mezzo Caraterre”
The sun was warm against Peter’s skin as he sat at the edge of the pond behind his home, legs hanging over to let his feet soak in the refreshingly cool water. There was the faint scent of sunscreen on his skin and the earthiness of moist soil. An oversized straw hat sat awkwardly atop his head and he could feel the itchy seams of his denim overalls against his skin, but it was easy enough to ignore when there were far more fascinating feelings to home in on.
Cupped within his tiny hands were a few wiggling little poliwags, small as marbles but soft as marshmallows. Their flappy little tails propelled them excitedly about his palms until one got too energetic and managed to fling itself out of his hands and back down into the pond. Peter laughed and the little poliwag surfaced again to circle around as if to say ‘again! again! pick me up again!’ and Peter was more than happy to oblige. He lowered his hands into the water, but a voice called out from behind him and he sat up. His mother stood by the back door, gesturing for him to come inside and announcing that lunch was ready.
As much as he wanted to stay and play, he knew the poliwags understood. When he waved, they waved back as best as they could with their clumsy little tails. He stood up and off he darted into the house, cries of ‘wait, you’re still muddy!’ falling on deaf ears.
Even now, years and worlds away, there were times between dreams and wakefulness that he could smell freshly baked bread or feel the slimy little amphibians in his hands. Moments he could appreciate the contrasts of senses; how hunger made a fresh cooked meal all the more delightful, how the hot summer sun made the ice cold water feel like heaven against his skin. But one contrast that always seemed more bitter than sweet was that of warm memories against cold reality.
