There is a world in an apple- you should know that now that you can do your shoelaces by yourself.
It was the night of the 24th and the sky was just the right shade of cheerio black.
We lit up an apple – one of those old grey giant ones from the office yard- fired it with sparkles and glitter and glue, and strung up lanterns – paper lanterns- on every jump rope we could find, hauled it up, and watched it go off, showering the park with sparkly apple dust.
It was one of those nights when you feel that the world is huge, and that time had not listend for once, and slowed down to one second for two. That feeling- when you’re out late and you know you will be in trouble when you get back home – when you’re at a place where you’ve discovered everything there is, from the places where the best worms are, to the number of branches you can climb in the ol’ maple tree-
it looked new and surreal that night.
We grinned at each other and let the strings go, and the giant grey apple rocketed up into the sky, straight up and up, over the hill, sparkling the night with its apple dust, yeah, with its apple dust.
We smiled over the leftover sparkles and ran away, home.
Except for Lia, who dragged the apple home by its stick, lanterns, ropes and all-
she planted it in her yard, that night under the moon, and you can still see it there, a giant grey apple and all our ropes and paper lanterns and mushrooms and cobwebs and memories and time.
But it won’t be there for much longer.