Saturday, January 2, 2010

The spot in the woods

I wonder if you saw me the day after I came home from the hospital. I woke up at 7:00, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Every morning now I wake up at 7:00 and can't go back to sleep. On the first day after I woke up, before the snow came. I had to be outside. No one else was around to make me stay put. I went out the front door for what I thought would be a short, cold walk. I started out along the road, already with tears blistering my face. And my eyes kept turning toward the tree line past the cornfield, so I took my first step off of the road and into the harvested rows. I stomped through the frozen mounds of uneven soil looking toward the fallen trees, they had died too. When I reached the open canopy the wind stopped and I felt the quiet.
I walked in deeper past branches and ditches, crunching through leaves spent on the ground. I was alone and I screamed for you Frost, I could yell.
I called and called and waited for a sign. I felt the quiet again and calmed myself with it. I walked on and came to a very shallow creek, half frozen and sad. I sat down and I watched it flow under ice, just like you grew within my shell. It reminded me of my childhood, the creek and the sloping sides of earth that bordered it. It reminded me of the time I was lost, it soothed me because I knew that I had found my place again. I stood up and started to walk again, I began humming but I knew that the sound wasn't right for you. I wanted to sing to you in those woods. Something old, something eternal, something that only the trees and you could hear. But I couldn't find your song that day. I didn't want to leave those trees because I think that I could feel you there. I was warmer, I was part of it. I talked to my Dad that day too. Your Grandpa. I asked him if he had you, if you were with him. I asked him if he needed somebody there with him, wherever the two of you went. And then two hawks flew low and echoed their high, long calls through the branches. I walked away wondering if the song I was searching for had just been sung to me. I will visit you there again, when I know your song.
Night, night Frost,
Mama loves you.

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