Anna

I've loved the weather lately with roiling dark clouds above my head, brief interludes of rain followed by the smell of Autumn.  It reminds me of how much I love to write.  I'm not exactly sure why the changing of seasons inspires me so, but I'm glad it does.

So I guess for the hundredth time, I'm going to write as often as my schedule permits me while I have these few precious months of inspiration.

Today I talked with Anna.  She was out of place, surrounded by functional plastic, buttons, lights and compressed air.  Her withered frame tucked lightly in the far corner of her room.  I almost didn't see her, but by a small wave she caught me.  Her skin was lined and dusted with the light of the sun, hair white and eye rich with memories.  I smiled and asked her how everything was, she smiled back lightly," As good as things can be."

We talked for a while about life, adventures, deserts, 250 lb snakes, that were "too damn big" for either of us.  As we talked, I watched the lines ease from Anna's face.  Light seemed to shine behind her eyes, as memories faded in and out of our conversation.  A rye smile was fixed in her lips as she recounted the meetings of long faded personas: John Wayne, Grace Kelly, Dean Martin, the list went on.

Our conversation was easy and light, we shared memories, likes and dislikes, but above all we talked about the desert.  Deserts, if you didn't know already, are beautiful.  They may seem like daunting, heat-ravaged ovens, but to one who has paused to look, knows behind the first dusty layer.

"People who think the desert is a horrible place really don't know what they are talking about.  There missing the point.  Take this hill behind me, do you see the different layers?"  A nobly finger stuck out toward the window, "There from that flat part to the ridge above, do you see how its the same?  The grass, bushes, even the dirt.  But look," the finger pointed higher, "there, above those rocks, the grass changes, its different.  Things aren't the same."

Anna's finger pointed higher, "And even at the top of that mountain, its completely different."
Knowing eyes turned to me my young face, "It's beauty, plain and simple.  And they don't get it because they're too busy trying to find the why."

Anna's creased hand gently rested on mine, dwarfed by my knuckles, "Mike, see here, don't be like that.  Don't go through life looking for the adventures.  Life is full of them, everyday.  Don't waste time on trying to find them, you'll miss it all completely.  Enjoy the moment as it comes, then you can learn."

I nodded my head knowingly.

"Lord knows I've gone through so many adventures, and I'm bound for the greatest one of all." Anna winked, "I'm not ready to go there just yet."

I smiled, feeling a shadow pass over my face, I suddenly felt so young, sitting there, a sapling growing its first leaves hearing the secrets to life whispered from this old sassafras tree.  But Anna smiled again, a smile full of life, joy and hope.

Anna grasped my hand again," Go have an adventure Mike, and make sure to take your wife with you."

I squeezed her hand and smile, "I will Anna, thank you."

A moment.

Today was Saturday.  Not Monday or Thursday, but Saturday.  I started it off like any other normal, sane, warm blooded mammal would with a walk at 6:30a.m.  We've recently changed our place of habitation and thought it prudent to explore the new scenery.  Our first attempt was somewhat thwarted by mosquitoes the size of frozen burritos.  That situation took a turn for the worst when we realized how far we truly had come into the winged beasts' territory.

Anyway, this second expedition proved most refreshing.  We slipped out the front door, unheard, into the darkness of the waning night.  Everything around us still slept, even the front porches of the houses we past gave us on heed.  The air seemed almost to crystallize over our skins as we moved quietly past bog and fen, causing our skin to dimple in the first tracings of Autumn.  Ancient willow trees dipped long tendrils of silver green leaves, drinking in dew from golden blades of grass.  All was still and silent, even our soft conversations of family and children clung to us.  Our path wandered amiably before us, horses on one side roadway on the other.  In the distance, to the East, rose the mountains, a purple shadow, slowly awakening in morning's first rays.
Even an apparent gathering of bird hunting enthusiasts seemed muted in the silence of the morning.  Our thoughts and language were reflective in nature, turning to the past, thinking about the future.  Uprooting ourselves into a new environment can do this to the mind and body.  I find it slowly exhilarating.

I believe my fearless companion and I had stumbled across an extended moment in time.  Unbeknownst to her, time seemed to stand still, making the very particles of oxygen consider their trajectory as they passed one another.  The skin of my palm melded with the palm of hers, becoming one living, feeling and breathing organism.  Our very vessel was not two ships passing in the night, but one, leading through the cessation of our world.

The sky became that indistinct color, indefinably blue-yellow, but not green.  The mountains again turned a deep velvety purple, majestically fortifying the rising sun.  I was completely lost in the sensation of living.

And before I knew it, that moment found its cusp.  Threads pulled, bells and whistles sounded, the refreshment of thought drained its last drops.  And now I find myself, already in the last hour of this day, wishing that moment could have existed just a little longer.