Green with Memory

Moist air tangles my hair and I absorb patches of grass on mountains in the distance through the thin strands of black that brush my cheeks.
Each color a distinct memory of hiking the hills of Kharmunghat tagging along, unsupervised, with my brother and his friends–just one of the guys.
The distance between my two homes oceans apart, but somehow it fits inside my tiny heart.
The driver speeds past these mountains not even awknowledging the sweet taste that each offers through the windows of this cab.