Artist: Garmash

Nature’s Breath

Perfect Pebble

Sara reclined against the sloping shore of the beach with her palms flat on the sand behind her. She felt the cool wet softness of the sand on her skin. She casually extended her right foot forward.  A small wave washed over her leg – refreshing. She exhaled the worries of the previous days while extending her other leg.

A few moments passed … perhaps many as she drifted into quiet contemplation. With each soothing wave that washed over her legs she drifted further. Looking out at the horizon, she let her mind wander.  Yet, she felt something vying for her attention. She puzzled, what was teasing the edges of her mind? After all, she just saw clouds flowing along the surface of the water on the horizon. Yet, she felt there was something more…

She continued to concentrate on the horizon.  What was it?  There was a steady movement of clouds, a certain rhythm, almost like breaths, and another wave. Strange, the clouds seemed to move in rhythm with the waves. Was she imagining things? She felt almost lulled by the movement – in step with her breaths…

“Sara, Sara, look at this peeble.  It is perfect.” Alex squealed.

Sara snapped back to her surroundings.  She had to gather herself for a moment before asking “Peeble?”  “Oh, you mean pebble.” “That’s nice, Lexu” she floated out. “No! No! Really look, Sara” Alex pleaded. “See how smooth and flat the surface is. It’s almost perfectly round” Alex beamed. “I can get 5 skips across the water for sure. Tato said 5 skips would wake the lady of the lake.”

Her thoughts momentarily diverted, Sara inspected the pebble more thoroughly this time. She gave her younger brother an approving smile. He grinned ear to ear.

“Now watch me skip it. I bet we see the lady of the lake for sure.” Alex ran a finger around the pebble’s circular edge. He flashed Sara another satisfied grin and with the suddenness of youth, he flipped the pebble in his hand and darted further down the shore to his special pebble skipping spot.

Alex came to an abrupt stop – just out of the reach of the breaking waves on the shore – he turned and looked at Sara. Once sure he had her attention, he faced the lake and carefully took one step forward with his right foot.

He pulled his right arm back parallel to the ground – elbow bent at his waist.  He used his right foot to launch his left side forward – his arm pulled further back behind his body. Sara watched his practiced fluid forward motion with a bit of amazement. He seemed to release the pebble at the last possible moment.

Alex never took his eyes off the pebble as his fingers reluctantly released it – spinning and gliding perfectly parallel to the horizon. The first brush with the lake was ten feet out.  He could see ripples in the water as the pebble returned to flight. The pebble glided a little to the left and brushed against the water another ten feet out. The skipping movement transfixed Alex.

As the pebble continued with its third and fourth dance with the surface, the lake seemed to calm – as if waiting – anticipating. Alex kept his focus on counting the skips, but Sara began to feel that strange something surface within her again. The fifth skip was almost an embrace with the water. With a final kiss on the surface, the lake accepted her gift as the pebble slowly receded from sight.

Sara felt the breath on her skin before it happened …

Whisper

…Whoosh!

The wave caught Sara by surprised as the water rushed over her legs. Alex, wide-eyed, rushed to his sister. “Is that her Sara?” he asked. “It must be. What did you hear? What did you hear?”

Sara looked up at her little brother’s expectant expression. She knew what he wanted to hear. What would Tato say to him now?  He could weave a magical world together with the natural skill of a master storyteller. Sara swallowed his absence within her.

“I think … I think I heard her whisper your name” Sara said at last – not quite sure why she hesitated. “See, I told you!” Alex beamed.  “I’ll find us the perfect pebble and then she’ll stay longer.” With renewed belief, he was off to search for the perfect pebble…

Sara smiled at the energy of her little brother. For herself however, she decided to lie back to rest again.

…

Whoosh…

The sensation of water and foam startled her awake. How long had she drifted off? Had she fallen asleep? No, she had been awake – she was almost certain. She was just thinking of something.  What was it? She was certain it was important.  But now, the thought teased her – just out of reach…

The water seemed to permeate her skin and her sight blurred with a growing mist about her. Her breathing deepened and slowed a bit. She found herself focusing on her breaths. There was a sense of rhythm to it … another wave washed over her… this time it didn’t surprise her.

The mist around her glistened with light in all directions.  Something about it was vaguely familiar – relaxing.  She felt a moving sensation… a rhythm to it.  She slowly breathed in…

The soft whisper, “Sara” surprised her …

Michael

Artist: Leonid Afremov

First Taste

Shari slowly wakes to the brush of a soft breeze against her skin. Her waking thoughts are with his last words to her, “the first taste of your lips beats in my heart.” As his words play in her mind, she realizes her finger is tracing her lower lip – which brings her a smile. A familiar sensation flows just below her surface – butterflies abound.

Slowly, her mind begins to clear into the now and she feels him slip away. This is the third night in a row she dreamt him. Still, Shari could not remember his name or face. Though she feels she saw him clearly in her dreams, only his words remain in her mind. She feels as if she’s chasing a shadow.

She almost drifts back to sleep, just to feel him again. But, her red cardinal friend in the backyard has other ideas as he sings out a series of musical chirps. “Right”, she smiles and begins to rise – “must get ready for the trip.” She walks through her normal morning wake up ritual – coffee, shower, makeup, dress, quick breakfast … and yet, she knows something is different today – something flowing just below the surface.

With a bit of excitement, she carefully lays out the items she will need to pack. This trip to the forest will be fun, she thinks. As she begins to fill her travel bag, she feels the cool breeze flow in through her open bedroom window – a welcoming whisper from the forest she imagines and smiles at the thought.

With the last item placed just so in her bag, Shari zips it close. A whisper in her ear catches her by surprise and she turns towards the open window to find the source – but she sees no one there. She walks to the window and spots her red cardinal friend sitting contently in his usual branch – just above the bird feeder she set up for him.

As she stares out the window, the last words from her waking dream play in her mind – and she realizes her finger is tracing her lower lip again. She smiles at the thought of his first taste – and begins to sense there is something special about this trip to the forest.

She thinks “so much to explore … and perhaps to chase.”

Share

Chase suddenly wakes to the flapping of the tent canvas – and immediately breathes in his dream thoughts. Not sure if he’s saying the words out loud, they float out as “the first taste of your lips beats in my heart.” Without thinking he grabs his journal and pencil to capture the words before they slip away.

He smiles as they appear on the page, “finally … finally, I remember them”. This is the third night in a row he dreamt her – but the words always faded away just before he could capture them the previous two nights. Still, Chase is slightly frustrated he can not picture her face or remember her name – and he knows she came to him clearly in his dream. She is so tantalizingly close – he can almost taste her – yet, she is just out of reach.

Now a little more awake, he steps outside of his tent and walks down to the lake to wash up. Along the path, he takes in the fresh forest essence and enjoys the soft cool breeze flowing through the trees. Wafting along the breeze, he thinks he hears a soft whisper of words. He laughs slightly as he shakes his head and decides his waking mind must be playing tricks.

He smiles thinking that he came to this forest a week ago to – to what – to clear his mind – to concentrate on his writing. And yet … something keeps distracting him and pulls at his thoughts – especially at night. He never remembered what it was until three nights ago … her – who is she?

And now, he hears whisper words – he almost laughs out loud to himself.

And then … an oddly familiar, yet unknown, sweet voice floats up from the bend in the trail ahead. Where has he heard it before, he wonders? Then, her image slowly begins to take shape in his mind and his heart skips a beat as the dream memory returns.

He clearly hears the whisper words now – a mischievous whisper through the trees, “the forest has something to share.” Without thinking, his finger traces his lower lip…

He thinks, “so much to explore … and to share” – as he continues towards the sweet voice.

Michael

Artist: Childe Hassam

Silence

With her index finger lightly touching her lower lip, Kristen stares out of her bedroom window – lost in thoughts of Michael. Moments ago, she was flowing along in his arms – was it really moments ago she wonders? She looks back to her bed – so comforting earlier – empty now.

He came to her this morning in her dream – it has to mean something. The fourth night in a row she dreamt him. And yet … she still hadn’t heard from him – not a single word. Is this really how it ends she wonders … nothing but empty silence?

As if he hears her thoughts, her favorite red cardinal pierces the silence with a series of musical chirps – evoking an instant smile that transforms her worried face. Kristen finds him in his usual spot – the oak tree branch just above the bird feeder. He seems to be looking right at her as he lets out another series of chirps – followed by a long silence – as if he expects her reply.

Thankful for the momentary reprieve from silence, her thoughts slowly return to Michael. But now, she feels the notes start to return and play in her mind. She moves her fingers to her chest and begins to tap out the melody – to bring the music close to her heart. She feels the notes resonate within her – she smiles inside to see her friend still watching her – does he know she wonders?

The music begins to evolve and expand within her. Michael is close – he has to be – she hears him in the music – her passion on fire. Without realizing it, she sweeps her hands in the air – the notes play on her fingertips. She quickly walks in rhythm with the notes to the door and towards her piano in the parlor – she has to release them into the air.

Sitting at her piano, with eyes closed – her fingers momentarily rest silent on the keys. She feels his presence – the silence ends now.

Reply

Vaguely watching the branches sway in the breeze, Michael wonders why he dreamt Kristen again. He looks back to his bed – once so comforting – simply empty now. Four days – and more importantly, four nights – he hadn’t heard from her – not a single word. The silence echoes more loudly with each passing day.

Suddenly realizing his index finger is lightly touching his lower lip, he smiles – a sad smile all the same. He sees her clearly; her finger on her lip – so delicate – so inviting. And here, he is – alone, looking out of his bedroom window. Is this really how it ends he wonders … nothing but empty silence?

As if she hears his thoughts, a cardinal pierces the silence with a series of musical chirps – evoking a genuine smile that transforms his face. Michael spots her in a swaying oak tree branch. She seems to be looking right at him as she lets out another series of chirps – followed by a long silence – as if she expects his reply. And there is a reply – but not from Michael.

He hears another series of musical chirps – different from his cardinal. She hears it too – her head darting up and down in rhythm to the chirps. She gives Michael a long look before darting from the branch towards his window and then banking in the direction of the chirps.

As his cardinal flies out of sight, his thoughts slowly return to Kristen. He notices his fingers tapping on his chest. That’s when he begins to wonder – couldn’t be – could it? Kristen’s red cardinal… and before he realizes what his soul already knows, Michael is heading towards her.

Presence

With her fingers alive and ready to play, Kristen takes a deep breath – not yet, she thinks – does she really feel his presence she wonders? A sudden loud burst of chirps surprises her – and she smiles seeing her red cardinal sitting in an oak tree branch, visible from her parlor window.

But, it is the slightly different burst of chirps that really catches her ear – and she spots another cardinal a branch away from her red cardinal – hopping closer as she chirps. Mesmerized by their dance, Kristen feels Michael’s presence flow through her – he is here – he has to be, she thinks.

She feels him silently enter the room – no words as he sits behind her – she knows he is intently watching her. With eyes closed, her fingers begin their dance across the keys – the music in rhythm with the cardinals’ singing – and he closes his eyes to take in her beauty as the music washes over him.

Kristen smiles inside knowing he hears her playing to him from her soul – without a word, they connect. Her whole body flows with the music released through her fingers. She feels his electric touch with each stroke of the keys – anticipating between each note.

With the last note, she dares to open her eyes – and turns around to find only a shadow playing against the chair – where Michael should be. “But, his presence is so strong”, she sighs – and the two cardinals – and the dreams – it has to mean something.

A little lost, she looks to the cardinals in the tree as if to ask “What now?” She decides she must be seeing things – is that a smile from her red cardinal? Perplexed, she absently traces her finger along her lower lip – momentarily lost in thoughts of Michael. And then … and then … the familiar knock on her door takes her breath away…

Michael

Artist: Leonid Afremov

Dream

Slowly turning onto his back and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Adam tries to grasp the shadowy remnants of his dream with his waking mind – but, they quickly fade away. “Damn, I can still feel them – so close”, he thinks. He smiles with a sigh at the beginning of his daily routine. Every morning he wakes up – hoping to capture the memories of his dreams. Why do so many of his friends seem to remember their dreams in vivid detail – and not him, he wonders?

Every now and then he remembers – which always spark creative writing thoughts for him. Capturing lightning in a bottle comes to mind when he thinks of those mornings. But not this morning, though something is definitely teasing the edges of his mind – he can sense it. It’s just out of reach – something important.

Overcoming the natural inertia of his body, he slowly swings his legs over the side of the bed – “almost up”, he smiles. A voice in his head says “sleep in five more minutes – maybe you’ll remember your dream.” Adam almost laughs out loud at the thought – another daily argument with himself … and sometimes he loses. Not today though, as he stands up and heads to the bathroom.

A little later and a little more awake after a shower and a shave, he dresses and walks into the den. The familiar musky smell of books greets him – he pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath. “Who will I read today?” he wonders as he traces his fingers over the bindings of the books along his bookshelves. He stops at Anna Karenina by Tolstoy – “Hmm, wonder why this one feels right today?”

Adam pulls the well-worn book off the shelf and opens it at the first page. He reads aloud, “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” With a sigh, “Yes, I always liked that first line”, he thinks. Closing the book, he absently walks over to the window and opens it to feel the cool autumn breeze. He smiles at the sight of glistening maple leaves still clinging to their branches – defiant to the end, radiant with bold and vibrant colors.

The fresh smell of wet leaves waft through the open window and makes him think of coffee – and the cafe. Closing the window, he heads out the door with Anna Karenina firmly in his hand. Thoughts of her form in his mind as he breathes in the fresh autumn air – walking through the park on his way to his favorite café. As he nears the café, he feels something different is afoot … though he’s not sure what … perhaps something he saw in his dream … and for some reason he can’t help but smile at that thought.

Cafe

Walking into the café, Adam spots Angela taking an order from one of the early morning customers. She gives Adam a surprised look and takes a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Adam follows her glance to the clock – yes, he is here earlier than usual today. He smiles at her and starts towards his usual table in the back, but quickly sees that it is occupied.

Well, today will be different he thinks – and takes an empty table near the front. He sits facing the front screen door, laying his book on the table – and begins to read. After a few minutes, Angela comes over with his usual coffee and states the obvious, “You’re here early, Hun.” “Yes, I guess I needed to see you earlier today”, he teases knowing it will make her smile – and it does.

As she already knows what he will order, Angela leaves without asking and Adam returns his attention to Anna Karenina. Albeit at a different table, he slips comfortably into his normal routine – letting the words take him away as the buzz of small talk all around slowly fades away. He is vaguely aware of the soft breeze flowing through the screen door – yes, a comfortable flow.

A sudden gust of wind blows the screen door open, momentarily breaking his flow in Anna’s story. As he looks up towards the door, a vision walks in as if directly out of the pages of his book. Her aura of beauty envelops him on first glance. She starts to glide past him without notice … ah, but then with a flash of recognition “Anna Karenina?” she beams “I love Tolstoy’s stories.”

Without prompting she sits down beside him – and that’s when a shadowy remnant of his dream from last night smiles in his consciousness. They chat over cooling cups of coffee as their story is written. Perhaps, it is predefined destiny that she walks in this day at this time. Perhaps, it is random chance that he brings Anna Karenina with him today.

Whatever the reason, the sweet fragrance of soggy leaves on the autumn breeze agrees with them as they begin their life together in the dream café.

Michael

Artist: Christine Comyn

Footsteps

As she rounds the bend in the trail, Megan feels the cool breeze coming off the lake wash over her – she imagines his touch. Looking at the familiar park bench situated just on the edge of the trail – with its picturesque view of the lakefront through the trees, she pauses and wonders why she puts herself through this emotional torture each Saturday morning.

And yet – as if her legs have a will of their own, they walk her over to the bench – she relents and sits – just like she has done each Saturday for a while. And – seeming to agree with her actions, she hears the rustling of the leaves in their dance with the breeze – as well as a pair of cardinals fluttering from branch to branch – finally settling nearby to join her.

Megan sighs and smiles at the remembered conversations with Peter. “This is a fairytale”, she told him several times. After all, it was the only way she could describe how perfectly irrational their relationship was. Could it even be described as a relationship she wondered – more than once? They never actually met.

Yet, she knew him – knew things about him that no one else did. And he knew her – knew things about her that no one else did. There was a connection deeper than physical – she knew it – she felt it – yes … this was a relationship she decided. And there were certain moments when she dared to believe it could be more – it could be real. But, it was complicated – real life always is she thought.

A slight spray from the lake carried by the breeze brought her momentarily out of her thoughts. Megan brightened and smiled – it was Peter of course. And without thinking she said – as she always did when sitting on this bench, “Good morning Peter – miss you.” And as he had told her many times, “I will hear you – always … just call my name” – she waited for his response in the breeze. The two cardinals sudden chirping made her smile broaden.

But, it was the oddly familiar voice in the distance and footsteps approaching the bend that caught her by surprise – and did she really just hear someone whisper her name?

The Leaf

Stretching and looking out his window, Peter loses himself in the sway of the branches and the chaotic movements of the leaves as they dance with the breeze. He finds himself following one leaf in particular. At first, he isn’t sure why – but something in the way it moves pulls his eyes to it. It seems to stand out from the other leaves – in a private dance with nature – free from the others.

Then he suddenly realizes … it reminds him of Megan. “Of course”, he says with a smile. With thoughts renewed, Peter returns to his desk and her story – his fingers poised over the keyboard. But instead of starting to immediately write the new ideas forming in his head, he pauses and looks pass the screen to the view outside his window – as the rhythmic dance between the leaves and the breeze continue. Where is that special leaf he wonders – he can’t find it now – it seems to have blended in with the rest.

A red cardinal flies into view and lands in one of the trees. Peter imagines it is his cardinal friend – the same one he sees almost everyday in his backyard. He watches with wonder as his friend hops forward with seeming purpose a few times on the branch as it sways erratically in the breeze. And that’s when he notices – his special leaf – on that branch.

The sight brings him a smile – a sad smile yet – and he tries to return to her story. Not quite yet though – Peter gets up again and walks around his desk to the window. And though it is hot outside today, he decides he needs to open the window – he has to hear the breeze. He smiles as he sees his friend looking towards him and as if in agreement with Peter’s actions, his friend lets out a series of chirps.

Back at his desk, Peter rereads the beginning of her story. As he left her, Megan is sitting on the park bench overlooking the lake from the edge of the trail. She calls out “Good morning Peter – miss you” – her voice carries along the breeze through his open window.

And he hears…

Michael

Artist: Garmash

Edges

As she steps along the top of the ridge that leads down to the shore, Anna feels the warm salty ocean breeze engulf her. The view spectacular as usual, but her mind doesn’t register the beauty today. Instead, she concentrates on keeping her walls up and holding off thoughts of Kyle that flow along her edges. Kyle has been away so long and is so far away, she reflects – why do thoughts of him continue to persist?

Anna sighs and starts her descent to the beach – it is her safe place – a place of cleansing. Reaching the bottom of the ridge, she automatically removes her sandals. Her toes dig into the soft grainy texture of the sand – she always loves this feeling. She hears the waves crashing against the shore about 100 yards away – they seem to call out to her.

She wanders slowly towards the shore’s edge – fighting with each step to keep thoughts of Kyle from penetrating her defenses. She finds herself focusing on the sound of the waves washing against the shore – a repeating loud seductive swooshing sound – getting louder as she nears the shore’s edge.

Finally reaching the shore’s edge, waves wash over her bare feet – and the ocean spray tickles her skin. At first, she thinks she is just hearing things – the seductive swooshing sound that precedes each wave sounds a lot like Kyle’s name – her mind is playing tricks – has to be.

She considers taking a few steps back – just out of reach; but the next wave pulls her forward – and she begins to enjoy the soothing rhythm that flows around her body. She continues to hear Kyle’s name coming from the swooshing sound of the waves against the beach again – she definitely hears it – doesn’t she?

With each wave, the ocean spray dances along her skin – and evokes a familiar sensation – she feels his touch. She suddenly smiles at the memory and thoughts of him flood through. How can he be so far away, she wonders – he feels so close?

…

A group of seagulls sitting idly by the waters edge further north suddenly cry out and fly towards her, which pulls her eyes towards the man walking along the beach’s edge – and he’s coming her way…

Vision

Kyle watches Anna descend from the ridge – he knew she would come here today. At least he hoped she would. He’d been sitting, all morning, about 100 yards north of where she normally entered this beach – really, their beach. This would have been their day – this should have been their day. After four years together, he thought…

But, it isn’t … and now watching Anna descend the ridge towards the beach without him stings – stings bad. He didn’t really expected this level of pain – but, he knew he should have. He wonders if she still carries any thoughts of him with her – their last moment together seemed so sad and final. He decides – she probably buried them away, like he tried to do.

Almost one year away and he still thinks of that moment every day. “Get yourself together Kyle”, he commands himself as he tries to shake the sadness out of his body. Slowly, he rises and takes a step towards the edge of the ridge – then backs away and begins to aimlessly pace about – watching as Anna walks along the beach towards the shore’s edge. “What is wrong with you? – Move!” he silently screams within.

He’d come all this way to see her … and she is so close now … what is stopping him? As hard as he tries to overcome it, the sadness of that day seems to overwhelm him and something inside refuses to let his legs move him towards her. Memories begin to flood his mind and cloud over his sight … the image of Anna slowly fades from view. “Is she really here – or is he seeing what he wants to be”, he hears himself wonder.

…

The sudden cry of seagulls snaps him out of the cloudy haze – and as his vision slowly clears, he sees her – as impossibly beautiful as ever. She seems so close to him now … but, he wonders how he got on the shore – walking towards her. This time, however, he ignores the inner questioning voice and continues towards Anna. He begins to hear her name with the crashing waves and feel her touch with the ocean spray.

And yet, a flash of light that hits his eyes distracts him for a moment – and he looks up towards the ridge he was on … who is that guy pacing aimlessly about he wonders… The crashing wave sound of Anna’s name pulls him back towards her – as he continues along the shore’s edge.

Michael

Artist: Taras Loboda

Shadow

With her mind in play tonight, Emily tries to calm herself by gazing at the woods from her bedroom window. At this time of night, the combination of a full moon peering just above the tree line and a mischievous breeze work together – to cast ghostly patterns with lights and shadows – fading in and out of the darkness below.

It is 2 AM, but her mind refuses to rest – a voice within that insist on being heard. Yet, she is determined to ignore it. She begins to focus on the fleeting patterns of light and shadow. It’s strange – there is something familiar in the flowing shapes – she can feel it.

With the mental distraction in place, the voice in her head begins to fade – and details from the ghostly shapes emerge. Emily begins to think she can discern a connection among the pattern of moving shapes – parts of a whole perhaps? There is definitely something familiar – something almost life-like about them. She’s not quite sure why they feel familiar to her – or whether she really wants to know what that familiar shape is.

And yet, ever so slowly – a distant thought surfaces within her. At first, a hint of vague memories – dimly formed. Her eyes narrow as she tries to maintain focus on the ghostly shapes – she senses she doesn’t want these memories to return.

Emily almost jumps out of her skin when she hears the laugh – “where did it come from?” she hears herself thinking. And then – she hears it again. It must be an animal deep in the woods making that sound she tries to reason – and yet, she knows that laugh. Yes, that laugh she remembers … and the memories begin to flood her mind – her internal walls can no longer hold them back.

Now – she sees him in the previously amorphous moving patterns of light and shadow on the ground – and the memory of his voice begins to surface in her head. She smiles at the memory – a sad smile, still the same. She wonders at the possibilities – he has been out of her life for so long and he must be so far away … yet he feels so near right now.

The sound of a pebble bouncing off her window momentarily stops her thoughts…

Light

With his mind in play, Ethan continued his late night walk along the path in the woods. It was nearly 2AM, yet with the full moon at his back there was plenty of light. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that she seemed to surface with intensity in his mind during a full moon.

Emily was always close to the surface of his thoughts, but the full moon brought thoughts of her in waves washing over his walls. Although he tried to forget, he knew why – the last time they were together was during a walk on such a night as this.

He quickly forced his mind to concentrate on the woods around him. The trees seemed alive with movement – the leaves dancing about in light and shadow as the breeze flowed through. The woods at night always seemed to calm him – except that one night with Emily … “Damn it, stop thinking about that” he tried to will himself to obey.

Her voice deep within him – normally buried away – persisted in being heard tonight. “You have to face this and make it right” she said. Ethan sighed and let the thoughts wash through him. She was the most beautiful light in his life at one time – but, he let her go that night. He thought he had convinced himself it was for the best, but now…

He walked these woods almost every night – never turning down the trail that led to her house. Funny, he could never convince himself to move away from her – yet, he stayed out of her life. And now … he was unsure if she would see him even if he came to her.

But, her voice was strong inside him tonight. He was half-way along the trail before he realized he was heading towards her house. “Now what?” he wondered. Then – two birds darted across his path. Cardinals he hoped, as a remembered memory made him laugh out loud. It was a sad laugh all the same – an involuntary escape of emotion from deep within, he knew.

And there she was – standing at her bedroom window – and she seemed to be looking right at him. But, he knew she couldn’t see him – at least he didn’t think she could. He smiled wistfully at another memory and hoped this would work – as he picked up a pebble and tossed it at her window.

Michael

Artist: Richard Miller

Cardinals

Walking this path – their path – again, after so many years – opened a stream of emotions for Jacqueline. She could clearly see Peter, in her mind – his eyes keenly sweeping the sides of the path, looking for movement – any movement. He always let her walk slightly in front of him – and with a broad smile he said, “I want to enjoy you fully in my vision.” This always had the same effect on her – she would blush a deep burgundy shade of red.

Instinctively, she reached out for his arm, like she’d done so many times before. The cool autumn breeze flowed through her fingers – teasing her memory. She felt the sway of her dress against her knees as she walked. She knew that simple movement always entranced Peter – and he would pull her close to him. She reached down to touch the moving fabric – somehow, it made her feel as if he was there – and he was there with her, she decided.

…

They ambled along the path – neither of them in a particular hurry. Jacqueline slid her arm inside of his – their hands locked. She tried to remember their conversation – it was something about … why couldn’t she remember … ah, yes – they were talking about the cardinals at play in the trees along their path. “Quick – right there in that oak tree to the left Jacqueline”, Peter would say.

She would hear the rustle first and then see the brown cardinal dart out, quickly followed by a red cardinal. Then they would sit close to each other on a branch – but not too close. The red cardinal would slowly, almost cautiously, hop towards the brown cardinal – and she would let him almost reach her – and just as he was almost next to her, she would dart off to another branch.

“It’s their dance,” Peter would say – with that simple smile.

…

As she rounded the corner on the path and came upon their spot next to the lake, she felt the first tear…

Ripples

She heard the familiar rustling sound, followed by the sight of the brown cardinal as she darted from a tree in the clearing by the lake to another tree – near the spot Peter would take Jacqueline on these walks. She wondered if this was the same cardinal they had seen so many times before – she hoped it was. Jacqueline expected to see the red cardinal dart out to chase his mate – but, moments passed and he didn’t appear.

After several minutes of peering through the tree waiting to see the red cardinal dart out, Jacqueline finally decided to sit down near the lake’s edge – maybe he would show while she was there. The brown cardinal – Jacqueline decided to name her “Hope” – seemed to acknowledge Jacqueline’s presence and sat alert in a branch just above her head.

Looking out towards the lake and feeling the tears well up inside her, Jacqueline fought hard not to cry – she was determined to make it through this walk without tears.

…

She could see Peter walking around the lake’s bank, looking for the perfect pebble to skip across the surface. He would say, “Each skip is a kiss upon your surface.” She always smiled at that thought – his words sent ripples of emotions through her.

And there he was – with his exaggerated wind up, about to skip his perfect pebble across the lake’s surface. He would first look to her with a simple smile in his eyes and then whirl around in one fluid motion to skip the pebble. He would count out the skips – one, two, three, four, five, six – and sometimes there would be seven.

With the final skip, he would pull Jacqueline close to him and say “and she accepts his final kiss” as their lips would meet – yes, ripples.

…

She didn’t hear Hope leave the branch, but saw her come into her line of sight as the bird skipped across the surface of the lake several times causing little ripples to appear – and then she returned not to the branch, but landed a few yards from where Jacqueline sat on the ground.

And … was that a smile in Hope’s eyes as she peered up at Jacqueline?

Chance

Hope stared at Jacqueline a few seconds more – then tentatively hopped a couple steps closer. Entranced, Jacqueline dared not move … dared not even take a breath. Hope suddenly let out a melodic set of chirps and darted up to the branch above Jacqueline’s head.

Completely confused, Jacqueline stared up at Hope – expecting something … not quite sure what … just something more. But, Hope seemed disinterested in her friend now – instead she made quick jerky head movements towards the trees across the clearing.

After a few minutes of watching Hope and with no sign of acknowledgement, Jacqueline decided she was just overreacting – yeah, it was just a coincidence that the bird had skipped across the water and then landed back near her – just a coincidence – wishful thinking on her part perhaps.

Funny, how the mind can play tricks on you, she reasoned. Jacqueline returned her gaze to the lake – and to thoughts of the last few weeks. Considering all that had pass, she was surprised she had decided to walk this path today and especially sit here – in their spot. Yet, something drew her here today.

She could see the light waves wash along the bank of the lake – a soothing rhythm. The cool autumn breeze on her skin seemed to match the rhythm of the waves – a cleansing feeling began to wash over her. She began to wonder if it was possible… but, no she thought … too much had passed between her and Peter.

The chirping sound from Hope brought Jacqueline out of her revelry. But, it was the returning chirps from across the clearing that really caught her attention. And there he was – the red cardinal, whom Peter had named “Chance” – at least Jacqueline wanted to believe it was him.

And just like that, Chance darted to the branch where Hope sat. He stopped a few feet from her – and slowly hopped closer – this time Hope remained. Then, both birds seemed to look directly at Jacqueline – or more precisely, just behind her. The sight caused a tear to well up in her eyes … thoughts of Peter returning full force.

And then … there he was – sitting down beside her – at first Jacqueline thought she was dreaming. But he reached in with his simple smile and kissed her tear away – and said “We can make this work Jacqueline – just need to give it a chance.”

Michael

Artist: Denise Armstrong

A Shiver

Claire looked out the window, vaguely conscious of the light snow fall. Thoughts streaming through her like the sun filtering through the trees in her view. Usually, she was so clear in her thinking – the images, sharp in her mind. But, today … yes – but, today … damn, she couldn’t even keep a train of thought on what was bothering her.

She felt Ethan’s hand stroke her shoulder, as he whispered into her ear “It will be alright Claire.” She recoiled involuntarily at his touch, which surprised them both. No, she thought – it was not going to be alright – at least, not today.

Now, it was Ethan looking awkwardly out the window. Claire hated the feeling she had at this moment – but, she couldn’t stop the overwhelming flood of bad thoughts. “You want me to leave?” he asked. She momentarily whirled around to face him and then quickly turned back towards the window – she said nothing.

Ethan stood there for a minute – suddenly numb – he was just an arms reach from her – yet, miles away. He couldn’t fix this, he knew – he had no magic time machine to go back to yesterday. He slowly turned and walked to the foyer. He quietly put on his coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck and pulled his gloves out his pockets.

Before opening the door, he turned to say it … but, the words would not come out.

Claire didn’t hear the door open, but she felt the blast of cold air hit her and then subside – a shiver ran through her body. She continued to stare blankly at the trees lining the edge of the forest in the back.

The sight of Ethan walking into the woods came into her view – and she began to softly cry. Although she willed him to, he never looked back – and all traces of him were erased by the snow fall quickly covering his tracks as he disappeared into the woods.

Footsteps

Ethan knew Claire’s eyes were on him as he entered the woods, but he couldn’t turn around – not now. With the first step into the woods – his woods – he felt the soothing energy envelop him. Yes, he thought – he had been away much too long.

With each step, he felt his energy rise – he began to hear the trees – he smiled at his friends – yet, it was a slightly sad smile. As he felt the familiar warmth flow through his body, he shed his coat, scarf and gloves – such binding material he thought. But, he needed them outside of the woods.

His cabin was about a mile in – yet, a world away from Claire – yes, Claire … he sighed. The whispering snow brushing against his exposed skin brought him out of his reverie. Now, he smiled in earnest – he missed the silent beauty of snow as it danced with the breeze and landed with cooling purity against him.

He found himself playing with the snow fall – moving about in rhythmic patterns – making them chase him as he walked. Before he knew it, his cabin was in sight – he felt its energy before he actually saw it. As he neared the entrance, he instinctively reached up to feel the lower branch of his founding tree – a soft murmur floated in the air.

Stroking the branch, he said aloud – although unnecessary – “She thought I was crazy.” He heard the breeze acknowledge in response. “Of course she would”, he said a bit louder – getting more agitated. He felt the soothing energy surge around him – “You’re right – it was too soon”, he said.

And then – there it was – that voice inside him – it was annoying and he couldn’t get it to go away. Maybe he was a bit crazy the voice was saying – talking with trees and snow – who does that? Suppressing the voice, he looked up to the branch of his founding tree – No, he decided – he wasn’t crazy.

The sudden sound of footsteps quickly coming up behind Ethan startled him.

Patterns

Claire dabbed at her eyes – she was determined not to cry. She couldn’t turn away from the window, though she knew Ethan was gone from sight. Something kept her there – inertia she tried to reason with herself. She was just tired from the events of the last day … the “events” – she couldn’t even say it.

A sudden flash of light from the woods caught her eye – then it was gone. She strained to catch it again – expecting it to return – and it did for another brief moment. But she realized it wasn’t the flash that captured her attention. Instead, it was the oddly familiar pattern created by the sunlight – filtered through the trees upon the snow on the ground.

Why did it look so familiar? Something Ethan said last night – what was it? She searched for it in her mind, but only found the bad thoughts there. Trying to explain the “events”, he shared with her that he talked to trees – he talked to snow … and even more fantastic – they talked with him. Surely, he was crazy – he had to be – and yet … and yet. “Snap out of it”, her inner voice of reason cried.

Exhausted, she still found herself drawn to that pattern on the ground – what was it? The image … the image – and then it hit. It was the outline of Ethan – impossible, but there it was – and it appeared that his arms were motioning her to come. She quickly glanced towards the tree where the sunlight filtered through to cast that image. Now, she had to be the crazy one – the tree appeared to be smiling in her direction.

Something Ethan said – “a language unknown to most, except those who chose to see.” Her voice of reason buried away, Claire rushed to the foyer, grabbed her coat and ran towards the woods…

Michael

Artist: Gustave Caillebotte

The Bend

Henri walked this path thousands of times – and yet today he would walk it for the first time.  “Were those rosemary bushes always there?” he wondered as he neared the bend.

For the past 23 years, he strolled this path every day with Gabrielle in his arms.  They talked of the little things that happened during the day – inconsequential things really – but their time together was never about the conversation anyway, Henri began to realize.

Now, left to his solitude he found himself disoriented with his surroundings – the path seemed foreign to him.  He suddenly found it hard to imagine his life without Gabrielle.

Michael