Sometimes I want to pick up tiny Johnny Washer and cradle him in my arms like a favorite doll. Then place him in the bed next to my mom, pull the covers up snug and put both of their thumbs in their mouths.
Then set them adrift on grey blue rocking chair sea. Let their hospital bed rocket ship swirl amidst the waves, and let them be knocked gently about by splashing dolphins and serious whales.
They would find their own little island and wash ashore, and his blue scrubs would be tattered and turn into native dress, and mom would step out of the bedboat boldly, reduced back to her strong 9 year old self. They'd braid each other's hair and chase each other around the island and all thought of previous life and troubles would be washed away by the escaping mouths of whales and trouble sucking pelicans, they can hold alot of pain in those beaks, like baskets, and fly away with it. They will dump all the troubles somewhere else no one cares about, the ocean is vast after all and there is no need to worry way out there. The water can absorb all our pain like a tiny aspirin and not even feel it.
Mom would be lying under the stars and Johnny W would make the fire with some sticks and the matches he kept in a waterproof bag and they would make a birthday cake out of sand but when they blew out the candles it would turn into a real cake because that's what she wished for and wishes come true, and they would demolish the cake hungrihappily, not caring if their cheeks were smeared because on a desert island no one cares if you're covered in frosting.
They wouldn't talk much except to exclaim about the abundance of stars and the sudden light of a streaking star from one end of the night sky to the other. Mom would shriek with the happiness of seeing a star zipping swiftly in front of her very own green eyes.
Her hands would be smooth from youth and comforting and quiet, and she could feel the pulse in her whole body like a remembered song. She was used to herself and she was glad to have herself back after all this time.
Johnny would cover her in warm sand to keep her snug and make a pillow out of coconut shreds and she would spread her hair out all across it in a blonde fan, and the skies would whisper shhh and she would close her eyes but she wouldn't sleep yet because of the silent joy under the lids.
There would never be need for anything because as long as the birthday candles kept appearing there were always wishes and all their wishes would be granted. I could trust Johnny on this island to keep everything lit because he always shows up on time and he always smells like soap, and he never complains, unless it is in spanish, cause I don't understand spanish really.
He is a small, tidy man, and he makes a good pet for my mom on her very first island, her new home for forever. She's never lonely and she's well cared for, so she frolics adventureful freely.
Her feet spend all days bare in the wet sand, and she builds useless things out of palm leaves, because she doesn't have to build anything necessary, it's just to stretch her imagination. There's so much to build when you're dreaming, and all of it can fall in pieces because all they really need is the boat and it's right over there moored just in case.
There is music everywhere, not just in the green jungle or the mellow beach, but in the quiet veins going up her strong calves when she's climbing wet rocks, and in the little blonde hairs on her belly and arms when she's picking out hidden shells. She's getting a nice tan and she yells I love you sun every day at noon. The sun thinks she is a funny child of the universe.
She never gets tired of this place because there is always a path to run on and there is always a dead log to explore and ants to pick up on sticks. She paints her face with mud and has swordfights with Johnny and declares herself the victor and he is vanquished. She banishes him from her kingdom but he shows back up at dinner because he knows how to cook fish so well, and she is hungry by then.
One night he will ready the shipbed and climb aboard and pull in the rope because little bonnie is sitting on the shore and she says be gone, monkey
I don't need you anymore
She salutes him from her sandy home with her golden fingers, she hails the stars and declares him a very good traveler, and a safe journey. She wishes him well and not to visit often if he can help it. She knows he has other people to wash. He is Johnny Washer
He says goodbye missus
He looks at her knees as he's sailing away. The boat seems quieter and less rocky
She looks at the brightest star in the sky, even visible at noon
I'm just over here, she says
