Her soul seemed to have fallen asleep in that vast, silent landscape. She drew a deep breath, feeling a glimmer of a peace that surprised her. For a moment she could not remember her grief. The mountain had such an overpowering voice, that all else seemed to fall silent in its presence. Several places she rode past small black lakes that reflected the sky, the shifting clouds. She would stop for a moment, staring into them, their mirror-like surface, seeing her own reflection. A pale wide-eyed girl, blurring around the edges as a wind brushed past. She felt she was looking at a ghost. Or a very old memory. (From the book I’m working on. Maybe:)
I’m waiting for rain, and the sky is waiting also. And there is a cold gust of wind sometimes, and light. It keeps shifting. I’m starting to enjoy living in the heart of a small town. At first, I wanted to hide away, but now I rather enjoy watching life happening around me. To be in the ebb and flow of the day, people coming and going. And spring is lovely. There are so many colors, so many flowering trees. The snow is almost gone from the mountains. Winter seems far away now, and yet I remember walking through slush and rain, and dark days, early evenings, almost as though it was yesterday.
Behind the fence behind the bakery next to our apartment, there’s a small orchard of white flowering trees and one bright red one. I like pausing a little as I walk, to look into that slightly secret garden.
And there’s a tree on my way back from the shops that hug the side of a building. I’ve been watching it slowly turning green after winter, and now has white flowers, like lace spread over its branches.
Beautiful things sometimes hurt me a little, if I don’t share them.
Have I mentioned that I get up to the sound of church bells? A sweet chime lets me know that it’s 7 am, followed by an insistent ringing that I’m guessing means it’s time to get up. I’m not sure. But I get up anyway. And the sun is already spread across the mountains, the river, so it feels right to start my day.
It’s Easter week, and I feel sleepy. The days feel sleepy. I want to buy a chocolate egg, just because it reminds me of my childhood. Easter feels like pastel colors.
I’ve gone for walks and seen the moon like a white ghost in the sky. A fading memory of the night before. Sometimes I don’t see her at all, but feel her light on me. Even during the day. A full moon, a pink moon they call her. It makes me think of that pink, flowering tree I sometimes walk by. That smells sugary sweet even from a distance.
Really, I just want to close my eyes, curl up and rest. It’s raining now.
How are you?