Friday, February 26th, 2021

The Island in Winter

 

We walk to the island. The children take turns pulling.

 

 

Akiva does not need to drink much water in winter: he eats the snowballs from his fleece mittens. When I notice his once-white chewing gum has become pink, I realize he has side-stepped the food-chain of microplastics consumption assumed in oceanic plastics pollution studies and gone directly to the source. I wonder how many thousands of plastic microfibers he has consumed on this walk. I feel helpless.

 

 

At the island, the tire swing, high above the river in summer, hangs low above the snow.

Iris steps onβ€”

 

 

β€”swing!

 

 

Akiva, shorter rounder and nearly as heavy, is more timid on the swing.

Iris pushes him gently.

 

 

He smiles bravely.

 

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