I woke up to the soft sound of chimes outside my window, the cold air spilling in, the world full of sunshine and bright shining mountains.
I feel I have no words in me today. Maybe they’ll come a bit later, but I’ll share something I wrote a few days ago, that I left unpublished because I had already written so much that day.
We drove along the narrow windy roads of home, and I kept silent, captivated by the glittering lake so close to us, by the light in the trees, the overflowing gardens. The day felt so fresh and sparkling, and I looked at the sky, saw how yesterday’s storm lingered at the edge of everything, dark clouds along the mountains and hills. But they had opened up, letting the sun spill into the valley, leaving it bright and golden. Everything was so full of color, the purple heather, the bright green moss, orange flowers in the grass.
I saw autumn forests reflected in still black lakes, and wondered if there could be anything more beautiful. I wanted to kneel down and dip my fingers in the water. I wanted to breathe the air and feel the sun on my face, in my hair. I wanted to slowly step along the path, without rush, without a place to be or anything pressing to be done.
I hear the eagle now, though I don’t see her. The day is slipping away, and I’m afraid it will be gone before I can take it all in, deeper, into my soul. I want to listen, to something, I’m not sure what. Perhaps I feel something happening, something trickling forth around me, inside of me. I can’t quite put my finger to it, what it is, what it means. My dreams still stay with me, and I would like to sit quietly for a moment and listen to them. I feel they have a voice, but I’m not paying enough attention. I feel them nudging me, asking me to remember, to open my eyes and see.
The sun is slowly setting, inching closer to the mountains. I want to sit on the stairs, in that sliver of sunlight before it’s gone.