October.
Arm
up, in the air, watch it dance across the sky, to and fro, to and
fro. Let my fingers twist and twirl in the air; let them glide. Both
arms out; up; background of blue and white, bundly perfection. Close
my eyes, breathe in. Feel the sweat on my back and the burn on my
shoulders – distracted; the jacaranda has burst into purple flame.
The still air wills the little flowers to the ground and they drop –
amethyst falls out of the sky. The grass is yellow and plays a warm
symphony to the sun-drenched earth. It is a frantic, heated
polyphony. Still, quiet, loud, ever moving, all at the same time,
somehow, someway, and not slowing enough to be known through and
through. It is a blur.
It
is Summer.
There
is no Spring here. Summer simply has attributes of Spring, and here,
we must be content with that and watch the season turn on a dime;
hairpinning its way from Winter in a fleeting instant.
Summer.
Golly.
October.
In
eleven days, I will turn seventeen. I will get my Ps. I will finish
school. I will pretend to be a responsible adult for a year before
becoming one; officially. I cannot hairpin like this warm season,
into a more beautiful, loving, obedient woman. No. I will continue on
slowly, learning always and never stopping, until I am made more like
Him every day. And one fine morning-
One
fine morning I will awaken with a clean heart and a renewed spirit.
But I will beat on, boat against the current, through 'life', bearing
always toward that one, radiant moment.
And
then forevermore.
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2 comments:
You write exquisitely, Ginny. X
Your writing is so amazing. It is pure pleasure to read your words. October is my favourite month, for so many reasons, how you wrote about it was just beautiful, thank you!
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