SOLACE
Saturday, March 05, 2016
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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