“You cannot hold the
sky,” she said. “It isn’t
yours to hold, and
besides, your arms aren’t wide
enough.” I held my
arms apart and touched the
horizons with my fingertips. “But look,”
I said. “I am holding the sky.” “How heavy
is it?” she asked.
“It’s lighter than your first
laugh,” I said. Then she moved to stand beside me,
stretched her arms as wide as they could go,
and danced around the field on angel tiptoes.
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