To Sit and Forget

The wood creaks beneath him as he settles onto it wearily. Though it could be said that the sound is uncomplaining. It is more like a breathless sigh of accommodation, quietly accepting his weight and bearing him as well as itself. The wood is old, and maybe a little fickle, but it is strong.

Eyes the color of the sea before a rough storm rake down and over the crest of the hill, into a miniature valley between the rolling land. Like water in a ravine, trees mingle at the bottom, thick and tangled, becoming a tiny forest that spills to the right and beyond, where there are fewer hills. There is an open plain before the ocean of wood, where the grass was mowed probably a week ago. Weeds spring up everywhere like heads in an office, popping up out of their cubicles at a sudden sound.

And on this plain, there are fireflies. Dozens of them, blinking almost in unison. They amble about as they perform their dance of light, continuing the circle of life with their brightness.

The sound of a raccoon from his left, the high-pitched chippering sound, and then a brief silence before another responds. They chit-chipper-chat back and forth, back and forth, as if they're actually talking. Maybe they are, he thinks. A quick movement from overhead catches his eye; a small bat, searching with its sonar for sustenance.

His eyes settle now on the boat in the corner of the yard, a large and ancient sentry that has not seen water beyond precipitation in over a decade. It sits calmly, overseeing the happenings of its surroundings and accepting them. He can almost feel the boat's willingness to let everything go by.

Then he looks to the sky, the periwinkle blue of not-quite-twilight, where an oval moon sits bright and beaming, with a single star as its wingman. The only thing on this great azure canvas is the occasional streaking of those bats, so amazing in their ability to take wing.

He sits there and simply watches, accepts, breathes deep the clean air of where he has come from. His body relaxes, muscles unwinding, and for a moment he is a universe away from where he once was.

Then, faintly, as if in the background, a cat bawls to be fed.

He rises to his feet, back on earth, the illusion lost.

"Coming, Princess."