writing

I wish this wasn’t fiction.

/ wvfurandroot / Leave a comment

Marjorie sat on her sofa in the room with blue walls and stared at them. She loved this room, and she loved her house, but on this particular day, she was at loose ends and restless. She picked up things from the coffee table one by one. The teal candle holder with the tea candle. The pottery bowl her stepdaughter had made. Her meditation beads.

Photo by Keszthelyi Timi on Unsplash

She thought about meditating. Her brain was so noisy today that she knew it would be futile. All the more reason to try, but she set them down too. She spied the small antique globe and picked it up. Spinning it, she daydreamed about taking a trip.

“Why not? She asked the cat. “Why the hell not? I have vacation days and I have a hefty tax return on the way. I like traveling alone. I can do this.” The cat didn’t reply.

She gave the globe a mighty spin, closed her eyes, and touched her finger. . .

To Hungary.

“Hot damn, I’ll go to Budapest. I have always wanted to go. It’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site.” She danced around the living room and imagined the adventure she would have. Maybe she could fly into another city and take the train or river cruise into Budapest. That seemed in keeping with the ancient city.

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The Girl on the Train

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Traveling with Elise was a trip.  People stared. And then they pointed. And then they chuckled. The more you watched, the more you saw that was just a little bit off center. Or a lot.

Image “Anywhere” by Haylee Morice at hayleemorice.com

For instance, who travels with potted plants and decorates their train seat with twinkle lights? Feeds their cat cake with a bowl of cream, of course?

Now many people wear their slippers on the train, I know I do. But their jammies and comfy sweater four sizes too big? 

Elise was born eccentric. It wasn’t something she became, and it wasn’t something she grew out of. It was her core personality. Part of it was based on her desire to be comfortable and part of it was based on her personal ideology that home was wherever she was.

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The Little Blue House

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Somewhere there is a little blue house nestled amongst irises and mature trees.  The little blue house has seen the trees grow from saplings to the giants they are now.  They’ve grown up together.

The little blue house is not so little now.  Over the years, Pete and Martha have added on — first to accommodate their children and then their grandchildren.  Soon it will be time to leave the little blue house to someone who will love it and move to small, more convenient digs somewhere in town close to doctors and pharmacies.  Pete and Martha are at that age.

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The ocean calls to us all.

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The ocean calls to us all.  The beach beckons.  The dawning sky a revelation of seashells on the shore gifted to us with the tide.   

The sun, the sky, the ocean, the shore – the four elements of life.  Earth, air, fire, and water.  Complete in one spot and rich with the ions that bring us a sense of peace and well-being.  The ocean calls to us all. 

A perfect locale.  All of creation revels in the sand, sea, and sun.  All of creation floats as if in the womb in the water beyond the breakers.  All of creation marvels at the wonder of moon pull and sun shine.   

To see dolphins leap, fish in the shallows, birds swooping and swirling, and, when we’re lucky, a stag enjoying a brisk afternoon swim is to see the planet for what it is – a place that teems with life, that is pure, mystery mixed with a bit of magic.  This is our planet.  Our being the dolphins and the birds and the stag and the fish and all creatures great and small including us.   

Dappled sunlight on the surface of the water causes the dolphins to leave a trail of sparkle when they leap.  Is it not sad that humans leave a wake of ruin and debris as we move. 

But not always.  Sometimes we humans leave a trail of art or a trail of love or a trail of charity.  We are not evil, but we are misguided.  We focus on the wrong things.  We forget that the ocean calls to us all to be complete, to be artists, to be art — to drift along in the beauty we’ve been given.  To get back to the elements of sea, sun, sky, and shore.  The tide swells rocking us like a mother with a baby. 

Our brain waves sync with the rhythm and we become united with the sea, the sand, the wind.  We coexist – we do not rule.  We do not ruin.  We do not improve.  We just are.  Just breathe. 

Let the sea call to us all like a preacher in a country church calling sinners to the altar.  Let us find forgiveness and peace and discover our place in the universe.  To leave a trail of love amidst the beauty given to us.