Hiding From The World
The grass fringing the lake is my sanctuary. It offers me stillness, isolation from the noise and busyness of the world. For now, that is how I want it to be. Just me, the forest, the mountain, the waders and birds of prey … and the lake. Even the sky is my friend today, its cloud leaking onto the higher reaches of the mountain. I feel it reinforcing my separation from everything else.
I have left the electronic world behind, turned my back on its insistence, its urgency, its pleading. I cannot be found. I cannot be called back. This is where I need to be. Before it is too late.
Here, I can breathe, and my lungs expand with ease. The mirror in my cabin reminded me this morning that I haven’t shaved for three days. But despite the stubble, the face looking back at me seemed younger. The V of lines on my forehead had vanished, and my shoulders seemed lower and looser. It had taken me a while to figure out what else was missing … then I realised it was the haunted look in my eyes, the pain I’d carried with me for ten years absent for the first time. Instead, I saw a clarity, a brightness, a hope.
I will have to go back sometime; the boat passing by with its chattering teens illustrates that quite clearly. This is not my own paradise. This cannot last forever. I will have to go back soon.
But not today.
Words © Joanna Gawn