Stoneware, glaze
20.5 × 10.5 × 11.25 in.

I remember being told the I-15 once bloomed. Each spring like a fever. Poppies everywhere. Entire hillsides burning orange.

I remember being told the prisons rose one-by-one. Like bad dreams. Each one swallowing more sky, more of the water we thought would always be there.

I remember snow. Enough to ride a sled.

And rain. How it came all at once. How we ran through it, my mother and I. The moon behind us, or ahead, I forget. How it climbed the mountains like it knew us. Like it wanted to follow.