Day 58. How I Saved My Brother From the Giants

he plucks up the blade of grass, aligns it with his thumbs and blows. it sounds like an angry elephant. like this, he says. he tells me that this sound will bring the king and queen of the field to us, a secret call.
he teaches me to listen to things. i hear them, i say. coming up behind me, i say, like footsteps, like a heavy rock being set down and picked up again.
good, he says. this is the first step.
do you hear it? i ask.
Always, he says, and swings me around.
hear how the steps are getting faster? see how the ants are scurrying off their path? that means the giants are coming.
the giants? i whisper.
the giants. they put you to sleep and you forget to breathe and you drown in your own spit.
how soon?
very, very soon. his raspy voice stays quiet, calm.
i cling to his sides.
Run run run! he coughs.
we do, we run, we go. into the open field.
perfect, he says, and collapses.
i wait for him to breathe and whistle grass blades, tickling his mouth with them. King and Queen! i yell. the giants have my brother, make them give him back!
my brother opens his eyes and springs up and we whistle and whistle until the grass touches the edge of the sun.