The light autumn wind blows in soft wisps, stirring the oak leaves collected at my feet. I glance around quickly, hearing a rustle—a crunch—of dead foliage. It’s a squirrel, scavenging for the acorns litter around the ground at my feet. I sigh; my breath is released in a puff of fog. It isn’t him. He isn’t here…and he said he would be.

I look around and see no one. Feeling like an idiot, I call out to him—to my nonexistent, lying guy who promised me he’d be here. “Chase, you there?” I call.

All I hear is the lonely echo of my voice, shouted back at me from the hills around me. Lowering myself to the ground, I hug my knees to my chest, taking deep breaths. It’s not like I should care…it’s not like he means anything to me. .it’s not like I thought he’d come…even to me my arguments sound like lies.

Glancing around, my eyes land on the old rope swing—tattered and frayed by time. I look at the little red tree house—clumsily put together by five year old hands but home to so many secret confidences, games and laughs—time we spent together. This was our secret spot. This was where he’d always be waiting if he knew I needed him.

This was where I learned to love him. His laugh, the twinkle in his brown eyes, the mess of auburn hair, the warm, strong voice, the playful grin, the tough exterior, the sweet heart inside—everything that made me fall in love with him—it’s like he’s standing right in front of me.

Thinking of him, I fiddle with the red-gold curls I’ve always hated—the curls that he’s always tugged and teased me with…then, suddenly, I feel it. A little tug. I whirl around and he’s there, grinning at me. “Sorry I’m late.”

I jump up to hug and he steps back. I look at him, hurt. He smiles secretively. “Just a sec, hold it girl. I’ve got something to show you.” Then he grabs my hand and pulls me into the old red tree house—home of so many dreams.

As I climb the squeaky moss-covered ladder, I gasp. I’m surrounded by glowing jack-o-lanterns carved into all sorts of faces. The room is luminous and our names—carved onto the walls in childish script—reflect shadows onto the floor. It’s beautiful. I stare at him through the flickering candlelight. “Chase, why?”

He smiles and leads me to the back corner. There’s a single jack-o-lantern carved with shimmering letters. “I love you. I’ve loved you forever. Be my girlfriend?” I’m speechless. My head reels with this new development. I can’t believe it. He’s never liked me, has he? I can feel the seconds tick by as he waits—nervously, fidgeting—for my answer.

Finally, I breathe “yes” and a grin flashes across his face. “Knew you’d give into my charm someday…” I laugh at him and he spontaneously hugs me. When we break apart, he’s smiling so much his eyes crinkle. I tell him so and he just laughs more. As I laugh with him—at him…at the whole inexplicably funny situation—he takes my hand and I can’t stop smiling. “So…cider at my house?” he asks me. I nod and take his strong hand as he leads me back to his house—his family. I leave our little red tree house as something I’ve dreamed of being since I was eleven. His girlfriend.

Fin

I want my own little piece of the rainbow to take with me when I run around the countryside through fields of tall grass that makes me feel so small. I want to breathe the air and feel satisfaction and delight. I want a life of sparkling memories that I can bottle up and keep forever. Never, never, never. Something of radiance and beauty and simplicity and complexity. Something that will create luminosity in my life of darkness.

Reality and symmetry and serenity are my pursuit of life. I need an ocean wave to come and pick me up, to whisper “hello” and never say goodbye until the end of forever. Forever and ever and ever. And I sit here in nonbeing. Something is never nothing. Nothing is always something. And I am here. Not nothing. Not something. Not anything at all, just another page ripped out of your dirty, disheveled notebook that you tossed away that rainy day. That grey, cold day.

To open my eyes and see sunrays and daffodils and glistening vivacity would be a thrill. I sit here in movement and excitement and never go back.

I want to see without blindness. I want to hear without dim. I want to feel without numbness. I want to open my mouth and utter four little words: “And there was light.”

so why not take me along? –
i have no other choice, no, not now.
i must only follow the path,
so intricate and undeniable,
as you.

show me, lisa, what your true intentions of that smile,
is it happiness or pleasure? song or art,
concealed behind that smile, those unwary eyes?
share what you’re thinking, dear mona, i promise i will listen with eagerness,
i’ll absorb your thoughts, your feelings of ecstasy and grief.
and you can then hear,
hear with your ears that are hidden behind those deep brown curls,
my story, too.

A box of crayons and paper, scattered throughout this room

A hackey sack sitting at the corner

The drapes, tattered with age

An exercise bike only in slight disrepair

And the smell of baked cookies covers the walls

The memories that must have gone through this room

Hundreds of them

Happy, Sad, Sun, and Rain.

I have to part with all of it now

I have to traverse into a new room

Why must we depart

Why is change neccesary yet painful

This room meant so much to me

In that it is a part of the makeup of my soul

It seemed like it was only yesterday that I walked in and sat down,

Laid on the couch and shared a warm dinner that same night

I’m closing the door now

But before I go

I have to be sure to leave a note

For whoever comes in the room next

“Keep things the same

Please don’t change them

Because I may be back in the future”

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