Mud Pies

I can still see her, 4 year old me:
Dusty cheeks and hands,

with a little water

turning dirt into mud

in torn up worn up jeans re torn from the most recent fall;
new blood oozing from 

a scab that had been healing.

But everything was washable,

mendable, stitchable, and 

time was the same as eternity.

I still have a scar on my left knee.  

it's only a faded white line,

like a portal to 

the day I am trying to remember
when there was just a little hunkered down girl
with her mudpies,

and she  

was the happiest girl in the world.

.