SOLACE
1:09 PM
This picture was the inspiration for a writing assignment I composed last week. I was asked where I thought the path led and whether or not I'd follow it. As the second installment of my Bouquets of Sharpened Pencils collection, I give you SOLACE.
It was a lovely day in early April. The sky shone the
clearest blue, and birds were chirping in the apple orchard just at the hill’s
peak. It was the kind of day where nothing would do but to breathe fresh air. I
reached the bottom where the green meadows nestled together and created a sort
of miniature valley. The sight of it drew my breath away by its mere
loveliness. The overgrowth stood tall walling a path on either side with purple
blossoms framing the edges. At its end stood a little wooden gate. What lies beyond it, I wondered.
I chose to stand there a moment reveling in my
imagination. What first came to mind was what I decided it should be, so to
bother with my second thoughts would be superfluous. I imagined water. A lake
lapping at the grass not three yards beyond the gate, hidden from all of the
hustle and bustle of the outside world. Here was paradise. The sun fought
through the trees and bounced off the water maintaining every scrap of its
original glory. A weathered dock jutted out into the stillness with only two
paddles atop it to keep it company. Brought up onto the grass was an old
rowboat with “SOLACE” painted in white letters across its stern. Purple flowers
grew out of it matching those of the path. As lovely as it looked, this boat
had not touched the water for well over a decade. This boat had a story; how
grievous that it could never be told.
I awoke and stared down that rickety gate. My reverie
had set the bar so high, that something inside me begged not to make the trip
beyond the gate. But, my curiosity got the best of me. I closed my eyes and
glided down the path waiting to reveal the secrets in one fell swoop. With the
loss of my vision, the fragrance enchanted and distracted me until my toes
bumped the gate. The time had arrived. I entered the gate then opened my eyes.
Tears filled them. For in the lake, the dock, the boat’s stead was a grave.
To
my dearest Helena, I set aside this piece of heaven.
For
you to boast of and for me to find solace in your passing.
May
the angels sing as sweetly as you.
1938-1962
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