Happy Saturday

Happy Saturday

Imagery Assignment: Death

She survived many seasons that could only be distinguished by the changing of leaves. Her aged eyes mirrored the color of the lake outside her window, a deep murky gray, deluded with unspoken complexities and wounds that could only be healed with a tombstone

In her youth, her eyes were brighter than early spring. Unguarded, unabashed, hopeful—happiness crystallized in a light blue. Now though, this memory of her former self, was a shadow of a foreigner, so unfamiliar, that it wasn't even recognized as her own. There was no longer any resemblance between the old maid and flighty girl. Even her eyes, weathered a deep saddening change of color. She can hardly remember when she gave up, when she left herself. She had forgotten most of her life. She thanked God every day for this.

She concluded that her joy must have escaped her, or maybe it was stolen, or maybe she gave it away willingly, regardless, it left during the emotional hibernation she was buried in while living at the lake house. At the lake, regardless of season, it was eternal winter.

But today, large cardboard boxes lined the walls of her hollowed out home; she boxed ties, collared shirts, socks, slacks, laced loafers, a miniature train collection, and the rancid aftershave--she taped, set and stacked them on the front porch for Red Cross to collect that Tuesday and threw everything else out. Attempting to rid herself of the ghost. The pain was as irreversible as putting leaves back on their branches. This was her feeble attempt to taping the leaves back on.

She walked out to her lake deck one last time, so old, even the termites wouldn’t inhabit its wooden planks. Regardless, it was her favorite place, it was secluded by the large sycamore trees, no scheming eyes could see her while she stood there, it was her only privacy. The lake was as a vast a seven football fields—or maybe six, it didn't matter, there were few things she cared for less than sports. But today, the lake took on a new shape, it was as if an entire ocean was being poured into a kiddy pool, so metaphorically synced with her heart.

She was just given something she hadn’t had for 47 years. Even though her backyard bred it, nurtured it and released it, her scabbed heart saw it for the first time:

Osprey flew and swooped in it, trout swam in it, deer listened for it and grizzlies hunted for it. As new leaves began to bloom from branches, she could almost smell it in the dewy freshly grown grass. She had been robbed of it like city lights rob the stars for years, but now the songbirds were singing her it’s tune and the sun was giving it shimmering light. The mountains stood for it and the lake bathed in it. A feeling unmatched by everything she's ever known.

“Freedom.” She breathed.

It smelled good. She grabbed her suitcase.