She left this morning, and today I find myself in a field on a trail at the end of a trail running west, and the evening is approaching. Light glows on the horizon in tangerine and the softest of lemons, and the light on the earth gives way to shadows stretching long toward the east and the memory of morning. This is the first sunset she has missed. The light fades, but in the darkness…
We come from darkness. We come from the earth. And it’s where we’ve been heading since the moment of birth. Escape is in our nature. We struggle from the womb, riding the waves of contractions to our first taste of air. The sunlight helps us grow stronger and taller and farther away. But our feet were built to stay on the earth, toes curling into the soil like roots. Sturdy legs to bare the weight…
from Fairy Tales for a Dying World I once heard a story about a girl who fell in love with the moon. She was pale and thin and silent and had been so ever since losing her parents. Her classmates sometimes called to her, but she remained steadfast in her distance, skirting a wide arc around their bustle and chatter. One evening, as the story goes, Luna woke to a gentle tapping at her…
Like birds in boxes, we are all dreaming of flight. I completely understand your reluctance, my friend. The earth is solid, safe. Our flesh is the very stuff of soil. The earth’s gentle curve helps us to keep our perspective. Still, there will be a universe of days for us to rest within its dark, maternal loam. Until then—why not fly?