In my dreams I sometimes walk through a winter wood. It’s the deepest forest, and in my child’s heart, at seven, I’m only skeptical of my surroundings. I walk slowly. The sun sometimes stings my eyes from certain angles. It’s only from the sun’s angle, with partial cover, that I see the red water pump.
The water pump is an object that I wasn’t familiar with except on TV, and even in my child’s mind I wonder why it’s there, in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, and in my dreams, but when I did remember the red water pump in my life, outside of my dreams, my heart hurt, but not for myself, but for life, and what life had done.