soap&diamonds

[by Soap]

White, foldable plastic. 

Coarse on top, smooth elsewhere. 

Under a foot tall. 

I remember looking slightly down to see it. 

Taking in the yellow photo manual, 

pasted on as a sticker on its side:

children reaching sinks, 

adults reaching cabinets. 

I remember stepping on it, 

lunging with my whole leg,

feeling like I travelled so high up.

At some point, I didn’t need it anymore. 

Without use, it slipped my mind.

Now, I’m much taller than it. 

Four feet lies between our heights, 

but I can only remember 

standing near its surface, 

taking in every bump. 

The prominent dirt is now scrubbed clean, 

and Mom’s words to never wear slippers atop it

remain fresh in my memory.

I can’t help but think that 

I have the wrong perspective

whenever it enters my gaze.

It should be near my line of sight, 

just like it was back then.