The Spring Sky, The Sunset.

Here comes the shot

And,

The empty glass,

Where many dazzling ideas are contained

and worries

and relief also.

Every evening begins in this way; with the full to empty glass, and the thoughts, as I walk out the front door and towards the park.

The park.

The park; it is three blocks away, but why does the distance feel longer with each trip that I make?

Am I bored of it?

Maybe I am bored of it.

I do go every day.

Even if it rains, even if it’s raining and I have no umbrella because-

I tend to lose all my umbrellas-

I always buy another, soon after. 

But if the odd day occurs that it rains and I have no umbrella

well even then, 

it doesn’t matter. 

I take my walk, I go to the park.

And the water may soak through my clothes, and drip from my chin, from each individual eyelash- oh well, it doesn’t bother me. Strangely I, 

well, maybe, 

actually I like it when it rains.

This afternoon, 

I lean over the sofa and strain my neck to see the sky,

It’s clear. It’s lighter.

It’s lighter than it was yesterday at this hour, it’s definitely lighter than it was this time last week.

Should I wear my jacket? Or… will it be too cold without? Or too hot? 

I am unsure.I ponder this for a while until I feel nervous about it. I pull on my jacket, then pull it off.

I don’t know what to do, I sit down on my bed 

and I laugh to myself then.

What a life I have- what has my life come to? 

Is my greatest worry really whether or not to wear a light jacket? That is humorous. I do find that humorous. 

I decide to take my jacket. But I’ll hold on to it. That’s my conclusion. 

I chuckle as I gently close the door behind me. Careful, don’t make a sound there. You never liked me slamming the door. 

Gazing around, the light is nearly golden, the sky too. 

It sure is nice to step outside and feel the fresh air.

 I make my way down the path, onto the street and past my neighbours’ homes.

My chin is raised high and I walk lazily, comfortably, my hands are in my pockets I am inhaling the spring as if it is giving me life. I walk like it has sent me into a deep, euphoric slumber.

Winter lasted too long.

I don’t now why it did not seem to have an end this year. You know, the cold; it seeped right into me. It seeped into my bones, it seeped into my brain. It hurt, and I couldn’t be happy with it inside. 

I had not know the cold could have an affect like that. 

I just wanted to wake up and be warm again.

Passing by Ina’s now.

Ina’s, I chuckle again, the local corner shop where I shoplifted at 13. Well, tried to shoplift.

Ina, the owner, she’d caught me trying to hide a Mars bar in my pocket,

She'd rushed around the counter, taken me, screaming, by the ear and held on real tight, as she cursed my mum over the phone, demanding her to pick me up immediately.

I always remember that whenever I walk by.

Every evening when I walk by,

I remember Ina scolding me.

No one has ever scolded me like Ina did. Not even my own mother scolded me like that.

After Ina’s there is another block to go.

Six houses to walk by.

These are my favourite houses of the three blocks. The biggest and the most unique, 

they have overgrown gardens and large windows.

One has a square attic window,

another has a door so big I wonder who must live inside?

One day we stood together and spent time studying each one. Oh, does that seem a bit strange?

Maybe it was strange to do. At the time it did not seem so. 

You lived there.

In my mind I am pointing.

I am introducing you to the audience. I knew a girl who lived in the last house. Do you see it?

The house before the park, 

The wooden house with the balcony, a balcony seemingly nestled amongst the trees.

There was a time when I would sit there, with a cup of hot tea, and confidence that life would not change, and I would always be with who I loved.

Maybe that’s why I still come by this way.

Maybe I hope to see you.

But what a silly thought! That girl, she lives in America now.

I should really stop thinking like that. I should really stop thinking like that. I should really stop hurting myself like that.

I’ve reached the park, and, oh, look! I am distracted by-

I inhale sharply and jog over to the closest tree, 

in glee I grab the trunk with one hand and gaze up into the spindly branches.

Budding leaves, so fresh, so green. The green is so vivid that it pierces my eyes, but in a nice way. In a way that wakes me up. I remember it was your favourite colour.

I am so pleased to see the arriving spring- so pleased I cannot describe.

I continue on, I wonder down the path.

I wonder silently now, my thoughts are still.

I guess I am relaxed and at peace.

For I know that with the spring, better is coming.

My hands are clasped together, against my back,

the way I hold my hands like that; it reminds me of friends I used to have. They would laugh at me, they would say I walk like the elderly, slow and leisurely, hands together, observing the world around. Do you remember me telling you about those friends? You know, the boys. They weren’t actually very nice people.

The path winds now, my body sways with its twist.

I hum happily and the golden light intensifies.

Looking up, the sky is blue and rosy pink and orange and purple.

I know that soon it will deepen further and darken, so I leave the path and find a spot on the grass.

It feels wet, and spiky through my t-shirt.

I fold my jacket and place it beneath my head.

I cross my feet, and rest my hands on my chest, I breath in and out, where are you?

Relaxing, I watch the sky. The spring sky, the sunset.