We will start in the stripmall store. Smell of carpet and new clothes sagging heavily in the air, as droopy as the flimsy blouses on the hangers. At the doors, we feel the spongy, grey carpet under our feet, and warmth when the doors automatically open as someone walks in and past us. But nods are not enough to keep us here, so we move outside. Smell of exhaust, parkinglot tar, and twenty restaurant vents venting dinner aromas entice us, but the sidewalk is bejeweled by the tiniest, chemically created crystals that cause it to shimmer, and it leads to the end of the mall, and to wild grasses beyond. That is where I want to take you.
We find a dirt path from the sidewalk into the lush, sometimes hip-high weeds. The first thing we notice is the crunch of polished stones under our feet and the pungent odor of bitter weed. Their yellow-orange flowers attract our attention quickly enough, as quick as the bees and wild, little flies that sup on their nectar. The stems are like standing herbs, and thickly set and crammed with tall fescue and other grasses. Their wheat-grain-like heads bow and lightly nod in the soft breeze. Then, stillness. Frogs and crickets chirp. All of a sudden a slight fear comes along and tugs on our tummies. There are animals in here, near our feet. Frogs, lizards, and probably snakes.
The urge to retreat from this hip-high jungle becomes strong enough to entice us to take a step back. But then we look down, at our shoe print. Suddenly, we realize, someone else might step near, and see the print, and wonder why we did’t continue onward. Or maybe they will think the path well travelled, and go further, possibly to those strange, white flowers with red stripes that show up like stars against the wall of dark green. Yet, maybe they won’t notice the foot print at all. Is that a little sad? Let us change it, then, bad grammar notwithstanding… 😉 They see our foot print and admire our bravery and our lack of concern for the stares of others in the parkinglot, who are wondering why two people are standing hip-deep in a sea of green weeds. Maybe they think we are in love and taking a lover’s stroll through a tiny piece of paradise? ….
That is, actually, how I saw it all along.