Cessation

The wind rustled the leaves of the great tree, the song of summer nights. The sun's yellow light still spread across the sky, stretching as far as it could into the cotton wisp clouds.

It seemed to end at the great tree, and after it the darkened night sky rose. The moon, just a sliver of silver in the sky, was accompanied by a few lone stars.

I walked down the tattered stone path, no stone fitting just right, but it fell into place so perfectly. A cardinal called, it's bright red feathers illuminated in the sun's lasting light.  

There was a hollow in the tree, a great hollow with an inviting light. I smiled softly, this is where I belonged. I touched the rough bark, aged by years of weather, searching for something.

A notch in the bark told me when to stop, I looked down to see a letter etched into the bark. I smiled, my letter. A tear rolled down my cheek, my letter, still there.

"Come on, let's play!" a childish voice called. I turned to the hollow, a little girl stood there. She held out her hand, I took it.

Pulling me into the bright light of the hollow, her giggles bouncing around the old tree, the sound of peace and home. I looked up, staring into the bright light, looking for what was beyond it.

"You can make it," the little girl said, her voice remarkably optimistic. But she, too, had been engulfed by the light.


Reese GarzaComment