my favorite hat was light blue and my mom said it looked like my eyes

now it’s covered in mud and sits in my closet.

i sat in the swing wearing my hat and a smile that stretched almost painfully across my face as i swung over the rice paddies beneath my feet.

my mom shouted out telling me to lean my head back so i could feel the wind and the butterflies.

i leaned back and watched as my light blue hat fell to the earth below me like helicopter seed.

i didn’t want to swing anymore.

i stepped off and spotted a light blue thread stitched into green blanket below.

when i picked it up from the ground it seemed like it didn’t want to leave.

it was wet and muddy, and i think my eyes were too.

the hat was heavy on the way home. 

my mom tried to wash it

but the mud remained, tainting the light blue forever.

i gave up on wearing it and placed it in my closet next to the rest of my old hats that were once my favorite too.

every once in a while the few light blue patches that remain catch my eye,

and i don’t think of the mud, but of the butterflies and the wind burning my light blue eyes.