fitveggielife

I brought a large blanket and laid it out. I sat down and began thinking—about nothing in particular, nothing of interest. It was more of a noticing: green clouds of pond growth blooming to the surface, a swan bobbing for fish, trees, light green and white, shimmering in the wind, a blue sky. 

There was a pain in my chest as I noticed these things. I was in pain over many things–about as many as I was seeing. Tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t describe it properly. Usually, I’d push myself to land.

But I don’t feel like it. 

I lay back instead, making sure not to land on dirt, noticing how many ants were scurrying about—along blackberry vines, up skinny and winding twigs of trees, to somewhere. I saw a bird land on a tree above me. It appeared yellow, but it was the sun, glowing in a halo through the leaves, leaving the bird in shadow. I wondered what it would be like to fly around under a sky of leaves, or to travel on six legs, dodging thorns. 

I sat up and stopped wondering because the pain in my chest returned. I was avoiding the thoughts that came up—knowing there was nothing to do. I began crying again. I didn’t rush or wish it away. It burned from within my chest, filling my throat, reaching for my eyes, and falling in tears down my cheeks. 

I was like this for a while. 

Music played while the swan kept bobbing and the wind shimmered budding leaves. 

Nestling into the nook of dirt on the pond bank, I wondered if I should listen to something new or head back to make lunch. 

More time passed, then it was time to go. But before rising, I put my hand to my chest and took a breath. The pain wasn’t as hot or precise—it had softened into warmth. Exhausted, I stood.

I climbed past the large pine, through tall grass and short, red-leafed oak saplings, back onto the road where the sun bathed me in welcome. My shoes were a blinding white. There were small black dots scurrying in frantic circles until my eyes focused—my shoes were covered in ants. 

I felt the urge to…do what? What do you do when your shoes are covered in biting ants?

I stomped my feet and shook out my blanket. 

I did it again. 

And once more. 

The ants, at least, appeared to be gone.