before

i am interested in other people's winters. i remember my own from a long long time ago and they all look like moving polaroid pictures. i know what they smell like and who was there, but the people are all in the background and quite tall, so i can't see their faces. i remember coats. i am interested in winter in a place where boys wear blue puffy coats that their grandmother bought for them at a thrift store, or maybe it's just 1984. where they ride bikes at dusk down neighborhood streets and through side yards and backyards because no one minds.

i am interested in the woods where a boy meets his friends and what they talk about and where they sit or do they stand.

i am interested in his mother who is cooking dinner at home and his father sitting in the recliner watching the news. i am interested in what his grandmother is thinking about in her house across town.

i am interested in his sister upstairs on the phone with a friend.

i want the boy to make it home safe and i want his mother to watch her favorite television show. i want to know whose turn is it to do the dishes.