Oct 30 2013

First Line From a Book – Creative Entry

Published by under Writing Exercises

“Line up by family at the tables to register!”

I stand up, leaves crackling under my feet. Perhaps this is a good place to stop, to rebel, to say what I will no longer do what I would rather not. But really, it’s a strange ideal that forces one to conform to the stand up straight in a line, don’t slump and feet together. It’s strange. A strange world. I walk in an irregular, broken pace – I will not march, I will not run, I will carry on. A vulture circles and soars away, perhaps tempted by the still position in which I’d spent so many hours. For such large birds, they are so gullible – just lie still in the grass, an open field, and wait until the ants crawl up over your face and the butterflies hover and overhead you begin to make out the black specks – watching you, wanting you dead. I watch Mr. Vulture sail away, my awkward jumping half-run jolting his solemn circle. All for the better – I am unexpected and so my heart rejoices in the freedom of un-attachment and rebellion. Imagine being a bird and flying from the nest alone, off to a rocky start away from the plow and hearth and warm welcoming fire watching, waiting for your eagerly anticipated return. The reddish yellow tinted leaves detach from the trees and chase after me. Wait. Wait. “Wait up!”

I’d forgotten about my little sister, tangled hair buzzing around her, running in long even jumps like the sheepdog she imagines herself to be. Oh to be free from the stand up straight don’t slump your shoulders don’t knock your knees, face the real world like a big girl. If you can’t handle it, you shouldn’t be in college, on your own. Chin up – don’t look so sad, put on a happy face. You know you can, just believe in yourself. They’re just words, really. Bouncing around in your head like bad life advice. All cliches- I’ve heard them so many times from every well-meaning relative, on every little Hallmark card mailed in the heat of summer, chilly scary fall, blanketed Christmastime. You’ve seem them too, you know. You just don’t have them all bouncing in your head as your little sister runs up to you. “Wait up, Nans.”
“It’s okay.”
We walk on in silence, airy thoughts drifting on puffing breath. Silence, really, with another, is the best cure for rebellion because in silence you acknowledge existence, the choice not to say anything, to keep on walking. Minds are one because of a mutual goal, unspoken words that unite the minds. The solidarity reaffirms that you, I, we, were meant to live in tandem with others, not in irregular bouts of rebellion or in the strict confines of straight shoulders and “let’s do it my way”. So walking through the woods shoulder to shoulder as golden rays of afternoon sun touch your wisps of hair, and eyelashes and soul… It’s the best medicine, even as your breath comes in shallow gasps and the height of the hill rises to infinity.


No responses yet

Trackback URI | Comments RSS

Leave a Reply