She liked to twirl in the living room. She liked to tip toe and spin and let her arms spread out like fairy wings. It used to be easy for her to set her thoughts down and leave them for later. She knew how to make herself feel light and she knew how to remake herself in every new second, different each time because she could.
She liked to skate across the cold tile bottoms. She liked to wear her worn out socks. They helped her feet slide and slip and take her into every corner of the space. She used to let the music reach the ceilings, sweep the floors, send her to all of the other places she had scribbled down in her mind. Her wide eyes used to hold onto the reflections she’d cast in the tall glossy windows. They mirrored her steps and swirls, they glued themselves to her every move. She used to stir the air with her tiny frame, she could change the direction of the wind.
She liked to pick the smallest flowers from the ground on her long walks home. She liked to keep the ones that grew towards her and the skies, the ones that couldn’t reach. She used to lift them from the soil and tangled weeds, she used to give them a new home with her. She liked to dress herself in their petals and pinks. And they used to weave in and out of her golden brown curls. The colors would paint themselves up high like a crown, they used to help her glow.
She liked to sit on the chairs that didn’t fit. She used to choose the ones she knew would be hers for years, the ones that would stay and age right next to her. The desk and its brown woods and dark metals had more years and they could teach her things and so she would keep quiet for the listening. Her hands liked to use the fresh pencils and flat trees, they helped make her mind appear. She could draw a safe place to store her thoughts and half smiles. And her soft laughter was the best at erasing the dots of doubt that used to search for each other in the dark and night. They used to reach and pull through the grey but her notes were bright and could wipe away the webs that formed each time. And they could never grow without her.
She liked to tie her hair in ribbons. She liked to pull the locks away from her lashes and eyes. She was careful not to miss what was hers to see. Her dresses used to wrap around her freckled shoulders and brush the tops of her knees like they had her memorized. And when she took walks near the ocean, her arms would soar and her toes would point and sink into every piece of sand they touched. She liked when the breeze would catch her. It used to hold on for seconds and then kiss every atom. She used to feel the air pass over and through each fingertip before it flew away and then she would too.