My bedroom window faces the woods. Maybe if it faced the street I would count cats and coyotes and stray people that pass.
Since it doesn't, I watch fireflies, lightning, and neighbors' porch lights far through the trees. Maybe if my window faced the street I wouldn't be such a -
Maybe I wouldn't be such a dreamchild. Instead of the Dream Child I wish I could give my family.
Maybe I would actually try to be perfect instead of just saying it and pretending like I want to-
But I face the woods and dream about impossible elves and adventures that don't exist anymore and maybe never really did.
Sometimes I slip out the front door to become an impossible elf on the sort of adventure a front door onto a suburban street allows.
On the last day I sleep in my childhood bedroom, I will dream my whole life through again and maybe I will understand why I had to face the firefly-lightning-porchlight lit trees,
and be the dreamchild.