The Path

The red and white marbled stone caught my eye. I picked up the small trinket from the dirt pathway, shaped like a baby's boot. The wind whispered, through the leaves of the maple trees, as I caressed the smooth stone with the soft pad of my thumb. Take baby steps. I found a comfortable squat. I released a small sigh. The yesterdays had added up to years, and my fears of the tomorrows lay on the shore of this prairie marsh. Gusts of wind gently rocked my body, and I too, waved in the breeze, in rhythm with the sweet wild grasses surrounding me. Across the marsh, the green rolling hills broke to the brown cut banks. On the other side of the marsh, the older of the cattle drank, while the young kicked up their heels.

"Are you okay?" asked the police officer in my memory.

" Yes. Please. Please, just take him away."

" You're not okay. Your wrist.... and the back of your heel is bleeding."

I jolt to my feet, stabilized my footing, and staggered to the water's edge. Two years had gone by and still I fought my memory. Kicking the sand, I heard myself say, "It's time to heal. He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore. You have someone new-he's different." I dropped to my knees. I began to pound the sand with clenched fists. "No. No. They're not all the same. Stop it. Stop this. He loves you."

I peeled blonde strands of hair off my damp face. I brushed the wet sand from my knees, then straightened my bent posture.

Walking back to our secluded campsite, under the July sun, I filled my thoughts of my new love. The pathway was painted with brown-eyed Susan, white woodland, the timeless scent of the prickly rose and sweet white clover. I stopped, and warmly smiled at a cluster of bluebells, remembering our walk together two days ago.

"Were those bluebells?" he asked.

"What did they look like?"

" They were small, little, purple flowers shaped like a bell."

We continued to walk, hand in hand, dodging the ant highways. He brought our inter-locked hands to his lips, and kissed the back of my hand.

" I missed you today," he said.

I smiled at him hoping he understood my desires. I tugged him playfully down the path. I spotted another cluster of blue flowers.

"Like those?" I asked.

" Yeah, like those.

" Yes, those are bluebells." I giggled, thinking my big, strong man looked like a little boy. His lips thinned into a smile, the smile that would forever anchor my soul. The tip of his tongue rested on his bottom lip, and his dimples defined his strong jaw line. I stretched my tiny hand around his callused, moist hand, and squeezed. I laid my other hand on my stomach to quiet the fluttering in my belly.

Learn more about this author, Lynn Lindsay.
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