It’s been six months since she waved goodbye to him at the airport.
She remembers watching him hand his ticket to the flight attendant and seeing him slowly disappear into the tunnel leading to the plane.
As every inch of him passed the final turn into the plane her last image was of a U.S.A Army stitching at the back of his duffle bag.
As she turned away she burrowed her teary eyes into his cardigan and was embraced by his scent still trapped within the fabric.
It is now fall and the weather has begun to cool and the winds are picking up at a most pleasant speed.
She sits at the top of a mound of sand and looks out to the ocean.
The sky is covered in a thick sheet of clouds which are stained pink by the setting sun.
The desolation of this spot which she has chosen to release her thoughts allows her to hear the movement of the water as it charges and retreats the shore.
In her hand lay a stack of letters, with the last one dating six months ago.
She stares with her eyes fixed on the date and her heart begins to pound at her thought of the length of time which has passed.
As she is about to fall into a mournful cry a small pod of dolphins begin jumping about the water.
It seems as though everything about this place is preventing her from mourning.
She decides to stand and walk just to the edge of the water to feel its coolness sooth her tiny feet.
She closes her eyes as a gust of wind circles around her.
Taking a deep breath she is first met with the sea’s salty aroma and then as the wind slowed she picked up a scent which was satisfyingly sweet.
Clearing her face of her long brown locks she prepared herself for the next gust of wind as a small wave crashed onto the shoreline.
This time the scent of the wind is sweet once more and she is overcome by an anxiety which prevented her from opening her eyes.
She grabs her chest in fear of opening her eyes to a landscape lacking what she was expecting.
Yet as the winds pushed passed, her denial quickly faded.
And as she found the courage to open her eyes, the common trait of desolation which she shared with the beach is no longer apparent.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
By Its Cover
“…and he left without a trace,” the end of the last sentence of a book I had been reading while sitting by my window during a Sunday’s sunset.
I placed the book away in a chest beneath my bed and once again I had felt the same unsatisfied feeling that ran through my body after each book I have read.
It was as though nothing seemed to fully captivate me.
But that was perhaps my selfish and unrealistic need for a story that would completely steal me away from this world.
Nevertheless, selfish, unrealistic, I was still determined to find that one story that I would remember forever and could tell to others without the pages turning before my eyes.
High up in the palace I looked down to the fields just beyond the giant willow tree.
I saw the library I had always found my stories in and decided that tonight seems like a beautiful night to go book hunting.
I threw on my hooded cloak and dashed out the palace and across the field.
Upon entering the library the sky was still a lavender-pink, signifying to me that it wasn’t too late.
Looking around I was reminded how marvelously constructed this library is and thought to myself that it’s no wonder I always manage to come back.
The aisles of bookshelves are made of polished maple wood and along the sides of each shelf are decorative carvings of doves, maple leaves, roses, and butterflies.
In the center of the library there is an enormous fire place surrounded by a marble floor with a color blend of greens, tans, and reds.
The floors are lined by what some say are the most comfortable couches in the world.
Above the library is a ceiling made of glass allowing the Sun’s warming rays in the day and the Moon’s soothing glow in the evening to brighten the pages of the books you choose.
Each year I have read countless stories in this library.
Some were of experiences in school.
Some were of the night life in the sleepless cities, while others were about the everyday tricks shaped by human beings.
But even though there were an ample amount of stories, I still haven’t found a favorite, chiefly because as much as they were different, they were still very much alike.
This evening I kept that in mind and I decided to be quite meticulous in choosing the next book to read.
With my arms crossed I slowly walked through the aisles of books and scanned through each title and cover that I felt would appear to be unique.
After a while, and as I passed book after book, I was beginning to get quite frustrated.
Everything seemed to firmly be the same.
Losing hope I decided to walk even slower and be even more thorough while looking for the right book.
I turned in the aisle of stories that were in the genre of mystery.
As I entered this aisle I looked up to the sky and saw that a cloud was dimming the moon’s glow prompting me to be extra careful.
Taking but just two steps into the aisle I heard a crunching sound coming from beneath my shoe.
Looking down I saw I had stepped on a dead flower.
Unfortunately, I stepped on the head of the flower, preventing me from being able to tell what kind it was.
It was so dried out that it simply just shattered.
I bent down, picked up the stem, and swept the shattered flower into the cup of my hand.
By this time it was a bit dark since the cloud was completely covering the moon’s glow.
As I began to stand up from cleaning up the flower the cloud began to move away and I spotted a book on the bottom shelf that was directly in front of where I picked up the stem.
I noticed there weren’t any words written on the rim of the book.
It seemed to be the only one in the whole library without writing on the rim.
Curious, I pulled the book out and the cover too had nothing on it.
I stood up and before opening it I turned the book around, sideways, and even upside down looking for some sort of inscription.
But there was nothing.
Then a visitor passed by and said, “Hello is something wrong?”
It was clear that my confusion was easily read from my facial expression and I responded, “Yes there isn’t a title or anything on this book.”
I looked up at the visitor who smiled and said, “Try bringing it into the moon’s glow.”
As he passed by, I looked down at the book and asked, “Why do you think…”
But I was cut short because as I looked up to finish my question the visitor had gone.
I took the book and walked towards the fire place, jumped onto an empty couch, and waited for the mischievous cloud to move out the moon’s glow.
Still with the book closed I placed it on my stomach and waited.
As I waited I thought of the visitor’s face, especially his eyes.
I remembered their shape prevented me from being able to figure out where he might be from.
But what stood with me the most, was his smile.
It was a smile that even just thinking about it made me smile.
Then finally, the cloud began to float away.
I held the book out in front of me and as the moon’s glow reflected off the cover a sketch of someone began to appear.
I sat up in bewilderment and I was anxious to see the completed sketch.
As the cloud was inches way from being out of the moon’s way all that was left were the eyes of the person on the cover.
Already recognizing the smile on the cover, I took a deep breath.
And as the moon’s glow was free of the blocking cloud, it revealed the eyes of the person on the cover.
Thinking out loud I said, “I can’t believe it. It can’t be. This sketch is of…”
And before I could finish the thought, the visitor from the aisle put his hand over the cover and with a flare of sarcasm in his voice, accompanied by his heart warming smile he said, “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I placed the book away in a chest beneath my bed and once again I had felt the same unsatisfied feeling that ran through my body after each book I have read.
It was as though nothing seemed to fully captivate me.
But that was perhaps my selfish and unrealistic need for a story that would completely steal me away from this world.
Nevertheless, selfish, unrealistic, I was still determined to find that one story that I would remember forever and could tell to others without the pages turning before my eyes.
High up in the palace I looked down to the fields just beyond the giant willow tree.
I saw the library I had always found my stories in and decided that tonight seems like a beautiful night to go book hunting.
I threw on my hooded cloak and dashed out the palace and across the field.
Upon entering the library the sky was still a lavender-pink, signifying to me that it wasn’t too late.
Looking around I was reminded how marvelously constructed this library is and thought to myself that it’s no wonder I always manage to come back.
The aisles of bookshelves are made of polished maple wood and along the sides of each shelf are decorative carvings of doves, maple leaves, roses, and butterflies.
In the center of the library there is an enormous fire place surrounded by a marble floor with a color blend of greens, tans, and reds.
The floors are lined by what some say are the most comfortable couches in the world.
Above the library is a ceiling made of glass allowing the Sun’s warming rays in the day and the Moon’s soothing glow in the evening to brighten the pages of the books you choose.
Each year I have read countless stories in this library.
Some were of experiences in school.
Some were of the night life in the sleepless cities, while others were about the everyday tricks shaped by human beings.
But even though there were an ample amount of stories, I still haven’t found a favorite, chiefly because as much as they were different, they were still very much alike.
This evening I kept that in mind and I decided to be quite meticulous in choosing the next book to read.
With my arms crossed I slowly walked through the aisles of books and scanned through each title and cover that I felt would appear to be unique.
After a while, and as I passed book after book, I was beginning to get quite frustrated.
Everything seemed to firmly be the same.
Losing hope I decided to walk even slower and be even more thorough while looking for the right book.
I turned in the aisle of stories that were in the genre of mystery.
As I entered this aisle I looked up to the sky and saw that a cloud was dimming the moon’s glow prompting me to be extra careful.
Taking but just two steps into the aisle I heard a crunching sound coming from beneath my shoe.
Looking down I saw I had stepped on a dead flower.
Unfortunately, I stepped on the head of the flower, preventing me from being able to tell what kind it was.
It was so dried out that it simply just shattered.
I bent down, picked up the stem, and swept the shattered flower into the cup of my hand.
By this time it was a bit dark since the cloud was completely covering the moon’s glow.
As I began to stand up from cleaning up the flower the cloud began to move away and I spotted a book on the bottom shelf that was directly in front of where I picked up the stem.
I noticed there weren’t any words written on the rim of the book.
It seemed to be the only one in the whole library without writing on the rim.
Curious, I pulled the book out and the cover too had nothing on it.
I stood up and before opening it I turned the book around, sideways, and even upside down looking for some sort of inscription.
But there was nothing.
Then a visitor passed by and said, “Hello is something wrong?”
It was clear that my confusion was easily read from my facial expression and I responded, “Yes there isn’t a title or anything on this book.”
I looked up at the visitor who smiled and said, “Try bringing it into the moon’s glow.”
As he passed by, I looked down at the book and asked, “Why do you think…”
But I was cut short because as I looked up to finish my question the visitor had gone.
I took the book and walked towards the fire place, jumped onto an empty couch, and waited for the mischievous cloud to move out the moon’s glow.
Still with the book closed I placed it on my stomach and waited.
As I waited I thought of the visitor’s face, especially his eyes.
I remembered their shape prevented me from being able to figure out where he might be from.
But what stood with me the most, was his smile.
It was a smile that even just thinking about it made me smile.
Then finally, the cloud began to float away.
I held the book out in front of me and as the moon’s glow reflected off the cover a sketch of someone began to appear.
I sat up in bewilderment and I was anxious to see the completed sketch.
As the cloud was inches way from being out of the moon’s way all that was left were the eyes of the person on the cover.
Already recognizing the smile on the cover, I took a deep breath.
And as the moon’s glow was free of the blocking cloud, it revealed the eyes of the person on the cover.
Thinking out loud I said, “I can’t believe it. It can’t be. This sketch is of…”
And before I could finish the thought, the visitor from the aisle put his hand over the cover and with a flare of sarcasm in his voice, accompanied by his heart warming smile he said, “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Daisy In The Rifle
Aloft my black stallion, I stood tall as leader of my army.
Positioning myself at the center of the front line, I gazed out across the battle field.
The fog was thick and the clouds released a chilling mist.
Piercing my vision through the small slits of my armor I watched as the adversary’s front line slowly stretched across the landscape like a blossoming flower.
From where I stood the adversary appeared at a great distance away, but I knew the fire within us, lit by the struggles before this day, would bring our armies together within seconds.
As I paced back and forth contemplating the right moment for attack, I took in these brief moments of peace.
Scanning this piece of the Earth that was chosen for this battle, I looked high and beyond our adversary’s position.
I observed the gigantic blue and black snow topped mountains, decorated by the richest green trees, and shaded by low thick clouds.
I knew this was the last glimpse of peace I’d see for a long time to come.
The fog began to lift and I looked back towards the adversary.
Their armor was imprinted was a thick letter L.
They looked stronger and far more daunting in comparison with my soldiers.
And with a hint of doubt I turned to my soldiers, but was relieved at the fact that we greatly out-numbered our adversary.
Our armor was imprinted with a thick letter F.
Turning back to the battle field, I took a deep breath, raised my rifle, and shot into the air signaling the initial attack.
As leader, I was supposed to wait while my front line headed out first, but after the black smoke of my rifle vanished into the air I saw a sparkling spot in the center of this vast space separating our two armies.
Like a bee to pollen, I was forced towards this mystifying sparkle.
Tapping the sides of my stallion, we were off at a speed I’d never known.
As I closed in on this sparkle my soldiers were not far behind and my adversary drew closer from in front of me.
Upon my arrival, I discovered the sparkle to be nothing more than a tiny white daisy with a gleaming yellow center, shrouded by the thickest arrangement of petals.
I searched quickly for others, but it was the only one.
Its beauty captivated me so immensely that I didn’t want it to be destroyed by the two stampeding armies.
I pulled it from the earth slowly as to keep the roots intact and held it in a space between my armor and my chest.
As I turned away to head back to my prior position amongst my army, there you were charging on your white stallion, as clear leader of your army.
I couldn’t bear the sight of you, so I whipped my stallion to gallop harder, faster.
As I rode swiftly away I knew that my chance of survival was slim.
I knew that if you caught me, you’d find the daisy and have the pleasure of its beauty just as I did.
I could not allow that to happen, and with tears showering down my cheeks I tore the petals off the daisy one by one.
As I rode away, I heard the constant crack of your rifle go off and I dodged the bullets that flew past my head.
And as I tore away each petal the wind carried them in trail behind me.
As each floated through the wind and bounced off your armor you did your best to dodge them as I did your bullets.
I rode as fast as I could while each new shot grew closer and more precise.
Despite my fear I did not give up.
I kept riding on.
I kept tearing petals.
My soldiers were holding off your army, but no one seemed to be able to stop you.
You kept coming.
And I kept on forward as I was getting down to the final few petals of this once magnificent flower.
Realizing it would be better to face you than be a coward and keep running, I took hold of the straps around my stallions head and pulled up, forcing her to turn towards you.
I jumped off her quickly and whispered, “Go. Be free. Run.”
I saw you do the same to your stallion and he did as you commanded.
You still had your rifle in your hand as you walked towards me.
At this distance from our armies all that could be heard were the whistles of the wind and the crunching of the grass beneath your feet.
The wind was strong so I tore off the next petal and let it go into the wind.
Watching it soar away, our stallions came into view and I watched as they were running away as one towards a path beneath the blue and black snow topped mountains.
I looked back at you.
You now had your rifle raised.
I walked towards you pulling off the second to last petal.
As I tore the petal you saw my lips moving, but due to the strengthening sounds of the wind all you heard was, “…me not.”
You loaded your rifle and I walked right up towards it.
I stood directly in front of it to show you that I had no fear.
Then taking the daisy with its one last petal, I placed its smooth green stem into the hole of the dark tunnel holding your bullet.
I knew what was about to happen.
You didn’t.
You couldn’t see.
You didn’t know.
For it was just me behind my armored helmet.
And as you took your shot, the bullet, with a flash, kissed the daisy forcing it out towards me.
After the shot was made the final petal was torn from the daisy and it floated slowly through the wind, spiraling down directly onto my now open armored helmet.
There I lay on the ground, free from this battle because of you.
And it was such a shame that as that last petal was torn I couldn’t tell myself in time,
“You Love Me.”
Positioning myself at the center of the front line, I gazed out across the battle field.
The fog was thick and the clouds released a chilling mist.
Piercing my vision through the small slits of my armor I watched as the adversary’s front line slowly stretched across the landscape like a blossoming flower.
From where I stood the adversary appeared at a great distance away, but I knew the fire within us, lit by the struggles before this day, would bring our armies together within seconds.
As I paced back and forth contemplating the right moment for attack, I took in these brief moments of peace.
Scanning this piece of the Earth that was chosen for this battle, I looked high and beyond our adversary’s position.
I observed the gigantic blue and black snow topped mountains, decorated by the richest green trees, and shaded by low thick clouds.
I knew this was the last glimpse of peace I’d see for a long time to come.
The fog began to lift and I looked back towards the adversary.
Their armor was imprinted was a thick letter L.
They looked stronger and far more daunting in comparison with my soldiers.
And with a hint of doubt I turned to my soldiers, but was relieved at the fact that we greatly out-numbered our adversary.
Our armor was imprinted with a thick letter F.
Turning back to the battle field, I took a deep breath, raised my rifle, and shot into the air signaling the initial attack.
As leader, I was supposed to wait while my front line headed out first, but after the black smoke of my rifle vanished into the air I saw a sparkling spot in the center of this vast space separating our two armies.
Like a bee to pollen, I was forced towards this mystifying sparkle.
Tapping the sides of my stallion, we were off at a speed I’d never known.
As I closed in on this sparkle my soldiers were not far behind and my adversary drew closer from in front of me.
Upon my arrival, I discovered the sparkle to be nothing more than a tiny white daisy with a gleaming yellow center, shrouded by the thickest arrangement of petals.
I searched quickly for others, but it was the only one.
Its beauty captivated me so immensely that I didn’t want it to be destroyed by the two stampeding armies.
I pulled it from the earth slowly as to keep the roots intact and held it in a space between my armor and my chest.
As I turned away to head back to my prior position amongst my army, there you were charging on your white stallion, as clear leader of your army.
I couldn’t bear the sight of you, so I whipped my stallion to gallop harder, faster.
As I rode swiftly away I knew that my chance of survival was slim.
I knew that if you caught me, you’d find the daisy and have the pleasure of its beauty just as I did.
I could not allow that to happen, and with tears showering down my cheeks I tore the petals off the daisy one by one.
As I rode away, I heard the constant crack of your rifle go off and I dodged the bullets that flew past my head.
And as I tore away each petal the wind carried them in trail behind me.
As each floated through the wind and bounced off your armor you did your best to dodge them as I did your bullets.
I rode as fast as I could while each new shot grew closer and more precise.
Despite my fear I did not give up.
I kept riding on.
I kept tearing petals.
My soldiers were holding off your army, but no one seemed to be able to stop you.
You kept coming.
And I kept on forward as I was getting down to the final few petals of this once magnificent flower.
Realizing it would be better to face you than be a coward and keep running, I took hold of the straps around my stallions head and pulled up, forcing her to turn towards you.
I jumped off her quickly and whispered, “Go. Be free. Run.”
I saw you do the same to your stallion and he did as you commanded.
You still had your rifle in your hand as you walked towards me.
At this distance from our armies all that could be heard were the whistles of the wind and the crunching of the grass beneath your feet.
The wind was strong so I tore off the next petal and let it go into the wind.
Watching it soar away, our stallions came into view and I watched as they were running away as one towards a path beneath the blue and black snow topped mountains.
I looked back at you.
You now had your rifle raised.
I walked towards you pulling off the second to last petal.
As I tore the petal you saw my lips moving, but due to the strengthening sounds of the wind all you heard was, “…me not.”
You loaded your rifle and I walked right up towards it.
I stood directly in front of it to show you that I had no fear.
Then taking the daisy with its one last petal, I placed its smooth green stem into the hole of the dark tunnel holding your bullet.
I knew what was about to happen.
You didn’t.
You couldn’t see.
You didn’t know.
For it was just me behind my armored helmet.
And as you took your shot, the bullet, with a flash, kissed the daisy forcing it out towards me.
After the shot was made the final petal was torn from the daisy and it floated slowly through the wind, spiraling down directly onto my now open armored helmet.
There I lay on the ground, free from this battle because of you.
And it was such a shame that as that last petal was torn I couldn’t tell myself in time,
“You Love Me.”
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