Chalk Bubbles ♥

-Original writing from 2010 ~ Avery’s point of view-

Chase used to believe he could fly. 

He would flap his arms and chase birds and jump off swings. He broke his arm once jumping off a tree branch, and he had chipped his left front tooth as well. I loved that chip. The way he spoke and ran his tongue over it, so discreet and silent. It was just one of his little quirks that I adored. At the beach, we would stand on sand dunes and stretch up towards the sky, running and screaming, our beach towels wrapped around our shoulders and fluttering out behind us.

I believed that we could fly. He made me believe anything. That we could do anything. And anything we did, we did together.

Blowing bubbles in the summer afternoons, hunting for the Easter bunny or the monsters beneath our beds, dancing out in the lightning and thunderstorms until our mothers ran out and grabbed us, rebuking and scolding us because "storms were dangerous" and "we could catch colds."

Chase’s favorite thing to do was draw. Anywhere he could, he would. In the driveway, on the street, and once he did it on his bedroom walls which resulted in him being grounded and me crying for the little while that I couldn’t go over to see him. 

When we played with chalk outside, he would draw a circle around himself and proclaim it “his bubble” and no one was allowed to come in. 

But I did. I always did. 

I would giggle and step over the thin line and stand face-to-face with him. I would look into his gorgeous hazy slate-blue eyes and smile wryly, challenging him to do something about my intrusion. And then he would throw a fit, causing me to stick out my tongue and then run off to draw my own bubble. Dizzying circles in bright colors decorated the pavement until the sprinklers or the rain washed them away in runny streaks. Then we would do it all over again. Such a fun and simple game. Just he and I, drawing our bubbles, separate and apart, yet always together.

♥

GIF Source: https://weheartit.com/entry/229071665