We’d spent the night in conversation from the lightest to the heaviest, from the brightest to the dimmest, and we’d ventured to the edges of the known world dreaming up ways to fix what ‘s in it. Our best answer had involved the distillation of a better cognac, the proofing of a finer vodka, and the rearing of people who were far more generous.
She’s shorter and an organized thinker. So, she found her way to the feather bed, when I found my way to my journal and another glass of a Sauvignon Blanc I particularly like. I wrote a while until that hour was upon me. It’s the time when the world seems fooled -- that night might stand still to give us all the time we need to have our thoughts leisurely.
I walked out to the patio, thinking I might do that. Yet sitting with my glass of wine, I found the forest made me think of myself as the tree that falls with no sound when no one is there to hear. So rather than fight that feeling I took a walk to join the trees. I headed toward the water with my "long way to morning" thoughts.
Just before sunrise, that sunrise, every sunrise, I am like that soundless tree. No one knows me. No one sees me. I don’t need a name, a number or place where I must settle. I can be anyone. I have the luxury of time. I am soundless and alive. It’s free to set aside connections, to walk alone without realities, to drop off the definitions my life has drawn. I wonder if the tree knows that. I wonder if the sky and water understand the stillness of the time.
I sit in darkness by the water. It’s wealth to think I am no one. I’ve no place to be but where I am, no stress to feel but the faint breeze and anticipation of a sunrise. The sun seems to set the tempo. I takes it’s time, a slow red glow growing on the water. I’m walking with the sunrise beside me.
I sing a song from childhood.
No one can hear me, but yes I am.
−me strauss Letting me be