There was little house in the middle of nowhere, shaped like a pyramid and walled with windows curtained with flowers of every shade. An ancient Lincoln Continental went rusted on the property, and poppies grew from its tires and trunk.
We knew it was ours. Our home for now.
We had to flee the city, a mass of addicts and aggression. We were taking on the troubles of the town. The noise and the traffic was beginning to settle in our bones and we were scared it would never pass. The rush and stress was not just around us, it was becoming us. It was time for a sabbatical of all things concrete and lit-up neon. We needed flowers, rotting cars, elk in the morning, and northern lights at night. We needed a moon so big we could hop on it.
We needed solitude, quiet, and each other.
It's funny how running away to a tiny mountain valley will heal almost anything. Lazy mornings with chai tea. Lunches with organic tomatoes from the hothouse. And dinners of river salmon and fresh chรจvre. Fires under stars that were so close they become part of your eyes, and the moon so close it was on your horizon. There was no need to look up. It was in front of our hearts.
"Your moon," he said. "That's your moon. Big and pregnant."
And it's your moon. Wild and crazy.
We'd hear the spirits up in the hills slamming and cawing and hooting and howling along with the animals. We'd see flashing lights out of the corners of our eyes and sense there was more. More to everything we could see.
We knew it was ours. Our home for now.
We had to flee the city, a mass of addicts and aggression. We were taking on the troubles of the town. The noise and the traffic was beginning to settle in our bones and we were scared it would never pass. The rush and stress was not just around us, it was becoming us. It was time for a sabbatical of all things concrete and lit-up neon. We needed flowers, rotting cars, elk in the morning, and northern lights at night. We needed a moon so big we could hop on it.
We needed solitude, quiet, and each other.
It's funny how running away to a tiny mountain valley will heal almost anything. Lazy mornings with chai tea. Lunches with organic tomatoes from the hothouse. And dinners of river salmon and fresh chรจvre. Fires under stars that were so close they become part of your eyes, and the moon so close it was on your horizon. There was no need to look up. It was in front of our hearts.
"Your moon," he said. "That's your moon. Big and pregnant."
And it's your moon. Wild and crazy.
We'd hear the spirits up in the hills slamming and cawing and hooting and howling along with the animals. We'd see flashing lights out of the corners of our eyes and sense there was more. More to everything we could see.
No comments:
Post a Comment