A Post in Which I Have Nothing to Say or the Story of the Curious Girl
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
I have everything to say and nothing. In these ever shortening days I find myself full in so many ways. Full from the snaps under my feet as I walk in the woods. Full from pink sunsets and apples and the love I see people give the stray cats that live in my apartment building. I am full of words, but I am empty. I have so many drafts of incomplete essays; I am so full of ideas, but empty with organization and finishing. As I went through my drafts, I looked to see what spoke to me to match these pictures, but there was not even a low rattle. They are all for another time. So today, I shall tell the story of the Curious Girl who has only just realized she is looking through glass.
Just now the Curious Girl realizes that she is not a part of the world as she knows it, but that her world is trapped under a giant glass dome. When the globe is shaken in October, the trees begin to strip naked and the Girl watches the leaves filter through the wind drifting too and fro until they gracefully hit the ground. There is no sound, but the girl's world quakes anyway, waiting for the glass to break and let the cold inside. Little by little the cracks grow, waiting for the day they burst open and the white sea of cold rushes in like an angry bull.
She is such a Curious Girl. Such that she begins to tap at the glass like a doll desperate to escape the display case and bounce into the arms of a Christmas child. Impatient for the day to come naturally. She is ready to be cool and feel the fresh, thin air penetrate her glass dome. Ready for white blankets to cover the woods and to clothe the trees that have become so gratuitous with their nakedness. The Bull of winter is coming and she is ready for the battle.
She has gathered her dry leaves, ready to kindle a blaze to ward off an icy demise. She knows she will miss the sun and flowing rivers and fish bouncing out of the mirror only to hop immediately back in again. She will miss having feeling in her digits but knows that the first quilt of winter's white eyelashes will knock the air from her lungs. But alas, the waters still flow and though the songs of birds are becoming increasingly faint, they are still there, comforting those who dread the onslaught of chill. Perhaps the now is all she needs. But it is oh so hard not to tap on that glass. Reluctantly, she withdraws her fingers and realizes it is much better to wait. So much better to collect red leaves and pinecones and string up garlands above the heart.
Do not hasten winter, Curious Girl because it will come soon enough.
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I'm not quite sure what inspired me to write a little story, but it seemed fitting for this post. How do you feel about little stories once in a while?
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Pictures of me credited to my husband. All others taken by me.
