Simplicity

I have not the ability to force my life to happen as I wish.  I once had that power, but it was stripped away from me by reality. – Stephen Griffin

  I can only tell you where I’ve been, but as for my future, it remains a distant shadow that escapes the perceptions of my understanding.  The only power I have is to take the next step forward on my path to contentment, to sew the next seed in my garden of hope, and to turn the next page in my book of life.  Only my hopes, dreams, desires and imagination are able to construct a life that is unknown to me.  The horrible process of life is to let it unfold.  But if I were to close my eyes and envision my idea of a perfect life, this is the story that would be told.

  I arise from sleep with the pain of the night before storming the walls of my skull.  My eyes struggle to focus on the ceiling fan-blades barely spinning in a clockwise motion lacking the centripetal force to cause even the slightest breeze.  I study the ceiling in an attempt to keep the room from spinning.  I emerge from my bed, sitting on the edge, waiting to regain my stability.  I stumble into the kitchen, finding a single slice of bread to draw out the intoxication stewing within me.  As my thoughts of the previous night draw to a confusing conclusion, I focus on a plan to bring promise to yet another day. 

Washing the scent of smoke from my hair, I close my eyes, letting the warm water wash away my regrets.  “What will I do today”, I ask myself.  My only choice, as it has been many a day before this one, step out into the world and see what it has to offer.

  It’s a windy day in March.  The climate is at a crossroads.  The wind strikes my face and the sun provides a ray of warmth, yet a tinge of cold holds the sweat pressing to emerge from my pores at bay.  With all of my strength I make a stronghold in my mind for encouraging thoughts to work their magic, but my body feels only the pain of my past – a battle that has been fought for quite some time.  My soul is stronger than any pain that could be thrust into my chest like a spear piercing it’s enemy.  My skin carries the scars and bruises of my past, but my heart carries my love and hope for the future.  As the war forges on inside of me, I keep walking.  I find myself aimlessly walking through a park that I visit often as if somehow I’m attracted to it, as if I instinctively migrate to it or perhaps drawn there by some unknown force.  Nevertheless, I’m here and each step put forth places me further into the park, aimlessly walking and unsure of why I’m even there.

  As I tread across the plane of grass, feeling each blade fold beneath my feet, I force my eyes to look forward.  I breathe in. The fresh air glides over the river that runs parallel to the park, mingling with the leaves and limbs that cascade over the lawn.  I tighten the drums of my ears capturing the playful laughter of the passing by children carrying on their carefree lives as they should.  I notice a man and woman holding hands, unable to hide their content with one another.  Their contours connect perfectly as they sway back and forth, eyes focused on one another, oblivious to any other existence within their grasp.  Making notice of this, I place the image within the stronghold of my mind.  Admittedly, I am jealous; but excited that one day I too will meet my perfect contour.  I glance over toward the couple, divulge a hint of a smile and continue on - aimlessly.  Further into my walk I see a family.  I watch as the mother and father coral the children within the protection of their arms.  They stop and I watch as the mother removes a light blue sheet from the wicker picnic basket she carries in her hand.  She eloquently throws the sheet into the air and allows the wind to undo it’s folding while laying it seamlessly on the lawn.  They all kneel down on the sheet, smiles covering every face as the mother proceeds to unveil the contents of the wicker basket.  Sandwiches, fruit, a thermos, cups and napkins are removed and placed upon the sheet.  I watch as the happy family enjoys the beautiful bond they share that only pure love provides.  The simplicity of a sheet lain over a plane of grass, diagonally cut sandwiches, fruit and what seems to be cold apple juice provides the setting for a family’s perfect day at the park.  The troubles of the world dare not attempt to penetrate their environment of peace and tranquility.  As if I were staring into a painting, I sharpen my eyes to the contrast of colors and familiarity of solace, then tuck the image away.  I continue on - aimlessly.

  Mid day approaches and the tinge of cold that filled the morning air dissipates.  The effects of the alcohol consumed the previous night rears it’s ugly head and I begin to notice that I’m more than likely dehydrated.  I begin to make my way to a near by water fountain I noticed earlier in my walk.  I lean over the fountain and soak in the lukewarm water.  Leaning over the oasis, my head turned on it’s side, I smell a sweet perfume that attacks my senses. I open my eyes and stand at attention, captivated by the intoxicating aroma.  I inconspicuously peer in every direction in search of the source.  I make one last turn directly behind me and the mystery reveals itself.  With crystal blue eyes, skin lightly touched by the sun and golden locks of hair freefalling over the shoulders, she stands before me.  “Hello.”, she says to me.  I hesitate, captivated by her glow.  “Hi.”, I reply with a slight nervousness to my voice.  I’m oblivious to my hands hiding in my pockets and a ridiculous grin smearing across my face.  She stares back at me with a slight smirk.  “It’s a nice day outside”, I exclaim from the middle of nowhere.  “Yes. Yes it is.  It’s a gorgeous day”, she says followed by a laugh.  “Why is she laughing”, I ask myself.  Then it dawns on me; I’m standing in front of the water fountain.  “You want to use the water fountain, don’t you?”, I say with a harmless sarcastic tone.  She laughs. 

“Yes, I would”, she says.  “Well then, you have my permission”, I reply.  Effortlessly my personality, that lay dormant for what seems like ages, begins to resurface.  She is absolutely beautiful and the sound of her voice captures my heart as a web would a fly.  As she drinks the water, I kneel down to tie shoelaces that are already in double knots.  A still, small voice in my mind tells me to be patient and wait.  All logic presses me to move forward, to leave her behind.  I listen to the still, small voice.  I search for a beginning to a conversation as she wipes the excess moisture from around her peach colored lips.  “This is one of the nicest days I’ve seen in a long time.  It’s a good day to be outside”, I say to her as I struggle to exude confidence in my voice.  “It is, isn’t it?  I love windy days.  March is my favorite month”, she says as she places her hands on her hips.  “Mine too”, I exclaim; a complete falsehood to tell the truth.  I have no favorite months, but I need a foothold and perhaps the month of March is the catalyst.  “My name is Stephen”.  “Mackenzie.  Nice to meet you”, she replies as she extends her hand for a traditional introduction.  We stand in front of each other not sure of what to say, but we make conversation.  I am completely enthralled by her personality.  I’m a puppet and her every word is a string.  As the moment comes to an end it’s time to part ways.  “Well, it was very nice meeting you, Mackenzie.  Maybe I’ll see you around”?  “Sure, that would be nice”, she replies with a smile.  As we say our goodbyes and continue on our paths, I find myself walking in the same direction as she.  Laughter ensues.  “I guess we’re going the same way”, I say as I point in the direction we are both walking.  “Looks that way”, she replies with yet another laugh.  “I brought some lunch to eat.  I was planning on having a little picnic since it’s such a nice day.  I just have a little sheet I was going to put down.  You can join me if you would like.  Do you like tuna fish sandwiches”, she adds.  I lie and say, “Of course.  Who doesn’t”?  The thought of eating tuna fish turns my stomach inside out, but the promise of one more second with her sends my heart bursting through my chest.  As we walk along; blades of grass bending beneath our feet – contours begin to perfectly connect, carefree souls pass through the park as they should and the simplicity of a sheet lain over a plane of grass provides the setting for a perfect day at the park and perhaps the beginning of a wonderful future.   

  I want my life to be unwritten.  I will not subject my actions, emotions, wants, needs, fantasies and thoughts of a brighter future to a book written by another.  Their characters and plots are fallacies in my story that has yet to be told.   Their imagination is tainted with the dark alleyways and shadows used to contort my reality.  My hand will put pen to paper and my soul will be the syllable of my heart. – Stephen Griffin