archival.
sitting on the hillside, looking down into the valley. in the distance is the canyon, its entrance yet sealed. the meadow spreads in multicolor beauty before it, the day is partly sunny, warm, with the first touch of autumn only beginning to crisp the air.
the wind is blowing softly, moving my hair like an absent-minded caress.
looking out over the valley, i am thinking of promises made and broken, and pondering this last one of mine… thinking of the broken ones given me, long since discarded by others, and trying to decide if this last one could possibly hold worth to anyone but me, trying to decide if i should be someone who would shatter a promise.
i look down at it, resting in my hands… amber glow softly pulsing, but long pauses between… i remember when it was a constant light. i remember when it was warm in my hands. no more. i see a small crack in the middle now… and instinctively know how fragile it is… and something about that fragility makes me want to shatter it immediately… angry for it being possible.
but there is more of me that is protective. i remain still and quiet, and look out over the valley again… wishing with all my might that it could feel warm like it used to… wishing it could glow at the periphery of my vision like it used to.
i whisper into the open space, ‘wishes are for fools, you know.’ the echo in the wind replies, ‘yes, we have known it all along.’
i resist the temptation to destroy it. instead, i set it carefully there, upon the summit, overlooking the valley, the meadow, the canyon… and i leave it there. something about letting it enjoy this place in silence seems to comfort me.
i turn to leave and he is there, the farmer. overalls and blue flannel that matches his eyes. ‘so you’re done with it then?’ he asks me, looking very somber and serious. ‘i don’t ever think i’ll be done with it,’ i reply, ‘but since it seems to be done with me, i guess letting it have what beauty i can still give it just feels right.’
he nods and almost smiles. i understand he does not because he does not want me to think he is happy for it. he reaches out and takes my hand and we silently leave. as we do, i hear the little amber stone hiss, ‘go away.’
nodding without reply, i do not look back. the message was received long, long ago and wishes never changed a thing.