Performing the Skeleton

A moment came when the oak tree in the backyard was not enough for her.  It was a long moment, a slow realization shuttered through the years of spiny adolescence, but at some point she realized that the tree was no longer enough.  The weight of her body had somehow eclipsed its way out of the shadow of the branches.  Her world was a constant spin of new sensations- not necessarily transformative or exciting, but constantly revolving.  The sense of slowly absorbing a single sight, of coming back to it every day to notice small changes, to taste the revolving door of days/months/seasons as a tangible timeline- these things had left her.  

She realized this fully one night while sitting in a restaurant.  “How,” the shadowy man across the table asked, “how was your childhood? Were you happy?” This phrase somehow contained an incantation.  Her feet, flat against the linoleum, tingled they way they did when they dangled ten feet above the ground.  Her senses were flooded with fall- memory reigned.