Memory

Memory

Remember that day we sat in the open field? No? Well I must have been alone, thinking of you. I remember your presence there. The field went on for miles and miles, becoming a blur of brown, sienna, yellow ochre. When I stared at it for too long, I lost my balance in the waving grasses. I had to find the tree to right myself again. One lone stubby tree in a million miles of dreaming field.

I remember the light coming from the left somewhere, because it struck the tree in a most magnificent manner. Its shadow stretched long and thin, finally fading into blurry little fingers. I don’t know the brand of tree it was, it was unfamiliar to me. Short, stubby, gnarly trunked, with large bushy leaves over little pods. Well actually, the pods and everything else must have been bigger than I remember. I was a very long way from the tree.

The sky was malevolent blue that day, with long rust-and- grey clouds sweeping sideways across it. A thin strip of pink on the horizon gave the lower clouds a soft pink underglow. Everything seemed to be moving sideways, to the right. Clouds, grasses, shadows; slowly, faster, slowly again. I don’t remember any wind. The clouds parted for a moment, and there was the earth with its moon, right in place. I heard a voice call from a very long distance. I got up and began walking towards it. Only in my memory, you were walking with me.

Ron Ray


Rheiderland 27. Oktober 2014