Conditional Reality

We lived next door to Magma Instep one summer. She wore bright red hats and orange skirts. In the morning we usually found her in the front yard, dancing. Some of us would watch for a while, then go have breakfast. Others, especially the kids, would often go dance with her. Magma, we said, why do you dance every morning? No reason, she answered. Except that if I didn't dance, I'm sure I would wither away. When we moved north we missed Magma. We thought of her every time we saw a blossom or heard a mountain shuffle its feet.