A Day of Resilience

It enchanted me to watch the yellow, red, orange, and brown leaves dancing in the wind; I turned 360 degrees; arms wide open.

Is it that long ago since I walked down this alley?

The American Elm, the most prevalent tree in this alley, has a strong, unpleasant scent when it's green, but today's fall leaf hardly smelled at all—or so I thought. I hold my breath as a Ruby-throated hummingbird flies past my head over the whirling leaves towards a tree.

In a hurry, I grabbed the camera from my backpack with a 400mm focal length objective without losing track of the bird.

"What an amazing sight! Hold on a moment," I muttered.

My fingers were so shaken that I barely held the camera still to focus on the bird. When I switched to automated focus, the camera produced an adjustment noise.

"Oh Jesus," I mumbled as the hummingbird flew backward, pressed the shutter button, and held it halfway down. 

The camera adjusted the lens in seconds. I didn't hear or see anything else - just the one small tiny bird who seemed so close to me as I gazed through the lens, as if I could reach out and grab it. My heart was thumping so fast that it could jump out of my breast at any time.

'Click, click', I heard the camera operate after pressing the shutter button the whole way down. But suddenly something obscured my vision through the lens. I saw black.

"What the f*ck!" 

I looked at the other end of my objective and noticed that one of the leaves had found its way onto my lens and stuck to it. Impatient I removed it and pointed the lens again in the direction where I expected to see the hummingbird. The feel of lightness goes through my body as I think about the expression of the visitors of my gallery, with wide open mouths and eyes so big, as they would zoom me out. This scene of the hummingbird flying backward is so amazing, that I am the luckiest woman alive to watch and capture it…

I felt a surprising touch on my shoulder, I reflexively raised my arm in protection, scaring with this move the hummingbird away.

"What the f*ck? Damned!" I swiftly turned to confront the person who had the audacity to interrupt me.

She raised both arms in the air, saying, "Do not kill me," and I watched her face light up with a sun-like smile.

"Mary? God dammit, you know how much I dislike surprises. Where the hell are you from?"

"Ohh, you are just I remembered it when we last met."

"Wonderful! First, because of you, I lost the hummingbird," I took a few seconds to gaze at her seriously before pointing with my index finger toward her. "And secondly, you can put your sarcasm wherever you want to put it."

I started chuckling as I noticed the corners of her lips slid even higher. 

“Uhh, what happened to your vocabulary.”

“I call it ‘Environmental adjusting’,” I said and motioned Mary to walk with me to the alley with old American Ehm trees, and we passed some Cherry trees too. One Cherry Tree caught my attention, whose mahogany-colored bark magnetized me to look at it more in detail. I touched it with my palm and sensed the outer layer of dead cork. 

Mary started laughing. 

“You know, you look like someone interested in this thing of trees.”

“Well, I am.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Mary and giggled. “So, tell me, how went your first gallery event. I mean you behaved yourself and used more lady-like words.”

I sighed.

“So bad?”

 I faced her. She looked at me in a caring kind way that warmed me from inside. 

"It was a combination of enjoyment, horror, and escape moments,” I paused a few seconds and motioned her to walk with me. “Some people were okay, and they were interested in the stories behind the picture…

“And what with the others?" Mary showed real concern.

"The others," I said and stared at the ground with my hands stemmed on the hip, " the others frightened me from within. They kept asking me questions, especially when they met me for the first time, saying things like, 'What do you know from the world, you were a child."

"What?! You are the one who photographed those horrible scenes in the Capitol four years ago. A child? Since when are teens who are fifteen years old considered children? Teenagers of that age are sentenced as adults. What an idiot! How did you respond to that?"

“I did not engage in this and mention simply the photographs and told the story behind.”

“People acting so sick,” she said and wrinkled her nose.

We walked side by side, first silently but then she started telling her stories as she worked as a journalist in South Africa. Oh, I enjoyed her engagement and how beautifully she used her body language, waving her arms, hands, and even her change of tone, to emphasize the importance of the topic. 

A familiar scent of bitter and green with a hint of Amaretto, honey, and green sap awakened my senses. I looked around and a chill ran down my back. I stopped. I pause, holding my breath as my heart thuds against my chest.

Oh no. Have I gone thus far? Mary, why did you not say anything?

I'm not feeling well. I can't breathe. Why can't I forget? Why? I can't breathe. I need to sit down. Somewhere. Somewhere else. I don't care, just rest.

This scream. Over and over again I hear the scream of the riot "Move forward, get them" in my mind. The mob was dancing, and laughing as they overpowered the police.

Music. Horns. Screaming. Smoke shots.

Why?...

“Alice, Alice?” I felt pressure on my shoulder, someone shook me. There was a feeling of coldness and iciness throughout my entire body. I raised my head to listen to the voice, which was so bright and angelic. Slowly my vision returned. I wanted to say something, but my mouth made an incomprehensible sound. 

“Help! Help! I need some help. Please!” I heard her desperate, hysterical voice, but I perceived that someone turned down the volume.

“I am okay,” I whispered and waved with my arms. 

“You are not okay, Alice. You are not,” I heard Mary responding, at this time clearer.

“No, Mary. I am fine. Really,” I murmured and put my hands on the ground. Mary instantly supported me with her strength to get me up on my feet. 

“Alice.” She whispered and touched my face. 

“Thought just back as I used my new camera for the first time in this place four years ago,” I murmured and forced myself to smile at her.

“Alice, you have to stop right there. You cannot live further that way, as nothing had happened.” 

“What? What do you mean by that?” my voice sounded more aggressive than I intended.

“You need help, Alice. You were just a teenager as that happened. I was there, Alice, as you had your nightmares afterward. I was there to comfort you. I thought you were over this as you opened the gallery with the picture of this event. But---Alice---you need professional help to process,” she swallowed. 

I looked at her in disbelief, but it was the first time I saw her mouth shattering.

“Sure you think you are now over 18 and you do not need that. But you lost your consciousness a few moments ago," she grabbed me on the shoulder, "I know you do not believe me and you can do whatever you think is right for you. But, please, listen to an old friend. You need professional help,” she swallowed again.

Stretching out my hands, I took a deep breath to fill my lungs with fresh, cold air. The serrated orange leaves landed on my hand. I wrapped my finger around the leaves and opened them seconds later. Their shape returned and I saw the strength and resilience.

I looked at Mary and nodded.