The tree stood before her with its branches full of new leaves. As the breeze blew it’s leaves rustled, creating tiny green ripples in the air. Many of them turned to reveal the silvery underside. It made her think of the word ‘shimmering‘. The blue sky formed the backdrop and it was a beautiful video – just one scene but several frames long and she wanted to stay there and watch it for a long time.
There was nowhere to go anyway. No one was waiting for her. No…wait…someone was waiting for her. But this person was usually never in a hurry with her. She could get back when she was ready. There would be no angry probes or annoying noise. It was, in fact, too quiet with this person. No conversation except the one-sided ones she made constantly.
But this video made her want to stay out. She decided she would stay to watch, as long as there was light. When the day grew old and the heat became unbearable she would return – to her shelter.
She liked looking at pictures. She could spend hours gazing at them. Sometimes, if she liked it enough she would step into them in her mind. But she could only do that with a landscape. Because she can only do this with a landscape, she liked landscapes better than other pictures.
This one here was such a picture and she was already actually inside the frame. She could go forward and touch that tree if she wanted.
As she gazed, she became more intensely conscious of the azure autumn sky overhead. It created so much space around the tree. It made it look regal. Her first thought had been ‘so like a king’.
A beautiful person like that tree, she thought, she had yet to meet. She thought of all the people she has known since her childhood. She tried to think who might have been like that tree. So beautiful. So uniformly shaded and luminous and rooted and lively and straight and young and bright. And warm!
So many people came close. But no one fit the description exactly. A few people she knew resembled that tree in some ways.
She wanted to call her tree something – give it a name, so she could call the tree in her mind and leave a message with it. She had been told in her childhood by her grandmother that if one left messages at places one liked, one gets a chance to come back – to get the answers to those messages perhaps. And she wanted to return to this tree, one more time, someday.
Emerald Gold? The leaves really were more emerald silver. In fact, it was darker than emerald. No fire. Just freshness and sublime light reflecting from it. It was just early morning sunlight, but she thought ‘sublime’. But why was she thinking in terms of how it looked? Why couldn’t her tree have a name that had to do with her feelings for it instead?
Well, in that case, she realized, she would have to check her feelings and examine what these feelings have been to find a name. Fascinated. Soothed. Wonder-struck. Comforted. Nostalgic…
And Love. Yes, she had felt so much love when she looked at her tree. So much love filled her little soul that it hurt. She felt it might explode unless she let off some of it somewhere in some manner.
With love what it is, you can’t just dump it anywhere you will. There has to be space for it. It has to fit in. To be absorbed into the general design or scheme of things. Unless there is that space it is impossible to put love there. It would be rejected and you would have to take it right back and put it where it belonged. Otherwise there usually is a mess. And when there is a mess, people complain. And there is a lot of noise. She hated noise.
She scanned her mind for some such space, but couldn’t think of where she could put hers, where there might be space…
What if….but this person at home had plenty already as there were many to offer theirs constantly – with this person, it was like waiting in a queue outside the altar in a Hindu temple. There is so much waiting that one’s mind wanders until it forgets why it was there or about the offering. She looked at her tree one more time. The fluttering leaves seemed to smile at her.
She felt tired suddenly. She felt her feet aching. She looked around for a stone or a boulder upon which she could sit for a while. There was none.
So she turned and started walking away. She forgot to leave a message.
The day was still young. The heat was not unbearable yet. The breeze continued to blow the lovely leaves of her tree over and under the light swaying branches. Everything was just the way it was when she had wanted to stay. Yet, she was walking away. Something inside had flipped.
She left but didn’t reach home that day. There would be another, for that, she thought.
please note: photoments are photographic moments that stay in memory and leave an impression in someway, changing the way I live and think for better or for worse, or revealing something about the person I am or have become.