Monday, November 1, 2010

Ice Dance

Escape, if only temporarily.

This weekend, I went with a group to tidy a local cemetery. Rake leaves, enjoy the weather, that sort of scenario. We worked for a productive couple hours, and by the end produced clear headstones and taunting leave piles as proof of our efforts. As we were concluding our part and preparing to return home, however, we were met with the surreal: a gust of wind. Like technicolored snowflakes, leaves simultaneously leapt from the surrounding trees and poured from sky to ground. Any indication that we had spent the previous hours clearing the grounds instantly disappeared. It was delicious irony.

The moment the winds began, I could hear the insulted complaints of those around me. To them, the wind had no sense of propriety, no consideration.

To me, the wind was a perfect conclusion.

I looked above--saw the leaves gather and fall--and danced.

I may sound comically juvenile, but my mind instantly played a piece from Edward Scissorhands. I heard the music, I saw the snow, and though I was surrounded by falling leaves, I danced in it.

Perhaps it's the impending pressure of my future career. Perhaps it's the threat of adult responsibilities looming over the rising months. Perhaps it's dealing with the aftermath of death. Perhaps it's simply the stress that comes from living each day and finding the energy to maintain steady breaths. No matter the need for the moment, it came. The escape was transitory, it was temporary, but it was perfect.

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