Sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch she stared in a trance at the pulp that had risen to the surface of her lukewarm glass of lemonade.

She was stuck somewhere between drink me and eat me while contemplating how mansion-worthy her grandparents’ home was when she was twelve to how that same home seemed much smaller as she sat on their front porch now in her fifties.

“Was it like lemonade pulp rising to the surface, the opposite of rising or was it like the lemonade itself?”

She’d had a toke before rocking which assisted in her trance but her question never really changed. “It” might have been their house, them and possibly her.

She sat back, closed her eyes to enjoy the buzz and waited for the answer to reveal itself.

A few minutes later the nurse called her inside.

Grandma and Grandpa opted to have what they called their “Amusement Park Beds” moved to the living room so they could be near one another in the brightest room of the house.

It was 5:30pm and they’d asked their Granddaughter to read to them from the bible for thirty minutes before supper was served.

Pulling up a chair in between the beds she opened up the book of Halleluyah. She always read all verses that made up the Song of Degrees. Her Grandfather told her it was a song about life and though she read it often out loud for them and in silence to herself she never felt she knew exactly what he meant.

The verses she remembered most were those about peace and joy, about being guarded and having a place of forever to rest.

When it was time for supper she went back out to the porch to sit the rocking chair with her lemonade.

Staring in a trance at the pulp that had risen to the surface of her lukewarm glass of lemonade she pondered multiple cupids roaming the earth and hopping around disguised as white rabbits. She still had a bit of a buzz.

She decided that “eat me, drink me, watch your step, hold my hand and we’ll come out fine on the other side” was the philosophy of Cupid and then wondered if she’d discovered Cupidism.

They’d been through many a dry season to get a place where their fruit yielded a home and a love that remained warm, sweet and plentiful year after year of faithful watering.

She wondered if the child within everyone instinctively feels they’ve stepped into a mansion when crossing the threshold to any loving place, whether a door or another’s heart.

Maybe she’d smoke a little more and contemplate why it seemed smaller now that she was older or maybe she’d go hunting for rabbits with bows and arrows.