Something About It Felt Right

I lay there
and wanted Switzerland.
I wanted the spot where we ate lunch;
bread and meat and cheese.
Oreos.
The richest earth that fell away under the wildflowers.
The little children on their European playground.
The boy and the dog that knew
wildness and what it is to be alive.
The snow and the screams of pure joy.
Hot, melted cheese and potatoes.
The hut just in case we were reminded
how small we truly are.
The fish and my dad's bit of German.
Edelweiss.
The bell that hangs on our wall.
Old leather and mountain air.
I want Switzerland.
I don't want musty air or textbooks or fluorescent lights.
I want Switzerland.
Monty the dog and cute little Daisy Mae.
Pink everywhere, and the tea that we couldn't drink.
The way the floor creaked and the adventure it was to share that bathroom with people from across the world.
The roundabouts, the sunflowers, the cows, the glaciers, waterfalls, hot, sweet, fresh smell of Switzerland.
The rivers that ran milky grey and blue under covered bridges garnished with flowers, both sides, and the paintings that got burned away.
The swans and chocolate and bicycles, everywhere.
The trains that always ran on time but when they didn't,
the duck that just wanted his mom.

The way w's sound like v's and j's sound like y's.
The fact that they didn't allow cars and there were sheep and miniature horses.
The water sparkled; the grass glowed.

The cold, cold water that washed my toes and
the blue and white door, and the dog in the fountain.
Everything was right. Everything was older and purer.
Everything about it.
Really, I just miss Switzerland.