Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Magical Moments

I continued to write letters to myself quietly unzipping the belly of my suitcase to shove the envelope into the back pockets like the invisible ghost.  I have no idea why my mother gave me stationary, as I wrote once back home with  no returns.  The camp activities allowed me to release the artist, reader, writer, poet, lyricist and empathizer that was permanently stamped inside of me.  Therefore,  my work became a marvel, as I surprised myself by plummeting creatively into every lesson that was being taught.  Sometimes, the output would amaze or startle the teacher who gave a sigh or a gracious bow of approval like a Lady-in-waiting who held her skirt.  Finally, my mind and thoughts were free like a queen who ruled the high seas.  I welcomed visits from the night as I would lie on my back and wish for the performance of the "dancing" spiders to trickle above my face.  But as I became comfortable with them and the darkness at night the battery and flashlight was reserved only for emergencies.  So there was no performers, unless I gave them a stage with a spotlight.  One late night I could no longer contain myself from my earlier cups of drinking fluids and had no choice but to venture alone to find the camp's business house.  So I climbed out of my top bunk with the yellow canister flashlight in tow.  You can hear the crunching of sticks and rolling of little pebbled stones as my blue cotton rubber sole slippers found its footing on the walked path.   As I trailed along a lime-green snake quietly slithered across the path less than 4 inches away.  I stopped and admired its glowing skin from under my shining flashlight.  As I exhaled, my fear loosened its relentless grip from my caged ribs as I became rescued by courage.  I was no longer afraid of the unknown.  Soon after my mission was accomplished, I exited the tiny canister,  slide the hinge to the ancient wooden door and returned back onto the path to the camp tent.  No one missed my presence as I slithered back into my bunk like a snake.  Nighty night.

No comments:

Post a Comment