Writhe

Writhe

Today is a perfect fall day. The sun is shining, warming my back as I lay on the deck writing. There’s a gentle breeze rustling the leaves both in the trees and on the ground. The leaves that have turned are breaking free from their branches gently wafting to the ground, only to be caught by a gust that makes them dance and twirl before returning to their haphazard downward plight. I can hear my kids laughing and giggling in their fort of cardboard boxes and for a moment I sit back and appreciate my life. I raise my face to catch the sun’s warmth and to view the endless sea of blue.
I feel my contentment begin to abate as I take in the vastness of what lies above. I quickly realize it’s not the vastness that begins to agitate me, I rather like the freedom. It’s the emptiness. There are no clouds, no markers; nothing to give the sky character, mark space or boundaries. It’s just empty and I feel myself begin to rebel against the emptiness. I feel restless. I must move or walk; find something lenitive for this feeling that has begun to preoccupy me. I walk with purpose down the side of the road kicking the fallen leaves as I go, angry at the unrest.
The dead leaves crinkle and crunch underfoot while those kicked scurry to get out of the way. As they settle behind me after I’ve interrupted their death I hear them whispering, “Isn’t there more? Isn’t there more?” I keep my eyes trained on the ground refusing to look up and face the blue emptiness. My strides grow longer matching my increased agitation. My foot falls harder as my insides arch and twist against these fetters that are my thoughts.
“God that hurt!” So engrossed and intent on my thoughts, I kicked the neighbor’s tennis racket that was half buried in the leaves. I pick it up and revert back to my 10-year-old self and begin batting the leaves, swinging over and over as if somehow I can beat my turmoil into submission. Finally spent, I sit in the leaves I’ve just beaten and scattered. I feel lost.
I can feel the breeze caressing my face and the sun on the top of my head teasing me as if to issue a challenge. I look up to face my tormenter- the empty blue sky- and I breathe deeply, allowing the feeling to overwhelm and conquer me, to become me. As this feeling seeps outward trying to engulf me, I feel it growing thinner and thinner at its core while its tentacles try to surround me before it bursts.
There’s a red leaf floating to the ground, twisting and turning as the breeze carries its form. I pluck it from the air before it hits the ground noticing its vibrancy. Lost in thought, I begin to twirl it by its stem getting its residue of sap on my fingers. It smells fresh, like outdoors, and I like it.
The shadows are getting longer and its time to head back. I stand up and closing my eyes, I turn my face to the last rays of sun, letting the last vestiges of warmth be my balm. As I walk home, I dare to look up and catch glimpses of the sky through the tree branches. Patches of blue beyond the fading green don’t seem as overwhelming as the emptiness I faced earlier. Walking down the center of the street, making sure to avoid the fallen leaves, I find myself smiling and wondering what I should make for dinner.