And Now We Write

I've decided to try my hand at creative writing.  It's something I've always enjoyed, but haven't put out into the world.  Today I'm using 5-Minute Daily Writing Prompts:501 Prompts to Unleash Creativity and Spark Inspiration by Tarn Wilson.  This is for Prompt 1.

    Mornings always seem to come too soon.  I haven't been sleeping well again.  I can't seem to wake up rested, no matter how long I sleep.  I can close my eyes and pass out...sure I can, I'm exhausted.  But I haven't woken up well rested in so long.  I was beginning to think it was just a part of aging, but now I'm guessing I was wrong.

    I don't know what it was that woke me up this morning.  It's Saturday, so it wasn't the alarm.  For once, it wasn't the obligatory 2:30 bathroom break of middle age.  The dogs weren't barking.  No lightening or thunder...no weird, out-of-place noises at all.  I sigh softly.  It doesn't matter.  I'm awake now, I might as well get up.

    As I shift to get out of bed, a slight movement catches my eye.  I pause a moment, thinking perhaps the muted TV has flickered to a commercial break, but no, that's not it.  I stare at the hazy outline of a figure against the wall.  Am I still asleep?  Am I dreaming?  The translucent gray shape is somehow familiar to me, though it takes a moment to place it.  She's been with me a long time, so I'm a little embarrassed to think about how long it took me to recognize her.  I raise my arm in front of me and pinch myself, confirming that I am indeed awake.  As I do, I notice that my limb casts no shadow in the glow of the TV.  Of course it doesn't.  She's standing over by the door staring back at me.  This is quite the development.

    She's swaying slowly, back and forth, in a rhythm I have developed over time.  I'm too uncomfortable in my own skin to stand still, so the swaying is a sort of nervous tick for me to get rid of that discomfort.  I suppose she's picked up the habit too.  I'm flabbergasted at what I'm seeing, and so I sit in the bed and stare at my shadow, unsure of what else to do.  Finally, in a two-dimensional version of a gesture of impatience, she beckons me with a flick of the wrist.

    She shifts and starts to exit the room, turning her head to look back at me as she crosses the threshold.  What choice do I have?  I get out of bed and follow her, not bothering to put on my shoes, as she leads me to the front door and gestures for me to open it.  I hesitate for a moment, wondering in a somewhat silly way if it is safe to get closer to this familiar shade.  I see her head roll on her neck and realize that, if she had any, her eyes would be rolling as well.  It's obvious that I am being ridiculous, I guess, since my shadow has been touching me literally my entire life.

    

    I sheepishly open the door and follow her out into the cool air of morning.  She turns and brings her fingers to her lips, indicating her desire for me to remain quiet, so I nod my head and we proceed.  Down the steps and into the yard we go.  I follow her through the grass that probably needs mowed, up the hill towards the woods with as much stealth as I can muster.  At the top of the hill, she stops and turns towards me once again.  I start to ask what we're doing, but before I can make a sound, she hurriedly shushes me with a finger to her lips again.

    After a moment, she cups her hand to her ear, encouraging me to listen.  I concentrate with all my might, but I hear nothing.  I look at her, shake my head and shrug my shoulders.  She takes her arms and flaps them at me wildly and I start to hear the trills of a tiny songbird in the distance.  Then the steady, rapid drumming of a woodpecker seeking its breakfast.  

    My shadow points to a spot further towards the forest, and I notice a fluffy brown and white rabbit calmly surveying the area.  Behind it, in the branches of a scrubby tree, two squirrels chase each other like tiny acrobats, paying no attention to anything but themselves.

    Drawing up her arms while puffing out her chest, the light grey figure encourages me to breath in the morning air.  I do and am struck by the scent of lilacs and the wild rose that grows somewhere deeper in the forest.  I forgot about that smell, but this morning, it comes to me from the past, reminding me of its simple, subtle beauty.

Finally, she points to the ground beneath me, and I am suddenly aware of the soft grass under my feet, damp in the morning dew.  It calls to mind summers when I was a young girl, visiting my great aunt in West Virginia.  We would walk along the country roads in the pale light of dawn before the heat of day.  I close my eyes a moment and I am back there again, excitedly pointing out a spider web covered in the same morning dew that wets my feet now, many years later.  

    The leaves of the giant trees that encircle my yard rustle in a gentle breeze.  That same soft wind caresses my face and runs its fingers through my hair, causing me to open my eyes again.  The light of the morning sun filters through the leaves, illuminating dandelions and buttercups, red and white clover, and Johnny Jump-Ups.

    I glance towards my shadow, but she isn't there anymore.  Her abrupt departure startles me for a split second, until I shift slightly to look around and notice her again.  No longer apart from me, but casting herself beside me, stretching from my feet as she has all my life.

    I think perhaps, she feels I have understood what she has been trying to tell me.  To notice the things I have been taking for granted.  The simple things that have always been with me, that I let go of in the busyness of daily life.  

    It's easy to forget these things in the shrieking, blinding modern world we live in.  We have to work to live in this world.  We have to have the constant noise of the radio, the constant visual of the television in the background, the constant stream of information from the internet.  None of them intrinsically negative or bad...only distracting.  Always pulling us forward and forward and forward, never a moment of peace...  But that's what I found this morning.  That's what my shadow wanted me to have.  A moment of peace in a chaotic world.  A calming hum in a cacophony of car horns and commercials.  A single moment in time instead of the rushing in of the next thing and the next thing and the next thing...just this one special and singular now.

    I stand in the pale light of morning, breathing in the cool air of a fine spring day, listening to the birds call, seeing the colors of nature, feeling the sun warm my skin and the breeze kiss my face.  I stand there and take it all in.  I stand there for a long time, just me and my shadow and the whole world and all of eternity living in this special, singular now.  

    I think I will sleep a little better tonight.