In my dreams there exists a scanner that does not make my deepest ever shades of blue paint look like weird purple. If you know what that scanner is, please tell me.
I never used to think of the gutter in the front of the house where we grew up as a gutter. It was more than that. It was a place to sit and rest my feet on the cold metal while listening to and watching water flow to lands better than the one I was in. At the time, anywhere was better than where I was. I was pretty sure China or India or Yugoslavia were at the other end and those sounded like good places~ places where if my parents were screaming at me it'd at the very least be in a language I did not know. I prayed to that water as it left on its journey. It was a tangible God that I hoped was gathering forces to come save me as it twisted and turned down the dark hole. That particular God never came and we eventually left this house and my sacred gutter.
Twenty-two years after my last moment in that cool shady spot, I returned to that house where strangers now live and I sat by the gutter. This time I gave the water gratitude instead of begging it to take me with it.
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