A Perfect Memory

I rise from my chair at eight thirty pm, causing two dogs to bounce from their quiet spaces.  They go nuts running in circles by the door.  Hey guys, you come dressed for all seasons.  Me, I gotta get some layers on.  It’s cold out there.

The door opens and vroom!  Out they go with me stumbling down the step from behind.  We do our thing, running around the oval-shaped driveway.  Go!  Go!  Go!  I change directions to get ahead.  Hey guys!  They open up to high gear and sprint all the way to the spot where I’m standing, near the end of the “triangle.”

[The triangle is a grassy area at the north end of a stand of majestic old spruce trees.]

I am caught in this space and squat into quietness.  It’s silent here and the simple act of breathing is annoying.  I switch to listen- mode and that does the trick.

I love these moments.  Time wrapped in silence, decimating the clutter of life; an existence without bonds, free from thought and expectation.

Soft light falls.  Ice glows.  A little pond welcomes a gentle moon.  Its northern-most edge much brighter than the rest.

Still squatting, I swivel round.  Senses engage, observing and absorbing; seeking to create a perfect memory.  But something else happens.  I don’t enter the scene.  No, no, the world envelopes me!

Broad Stratus Clouds advance from the south.  Waning moon-light stays its course.  I stare at the heavens, noting the shape of the moon and the stars so few and far between.

I see.  I see, feeling the powerful pull of an incalculable expanse.  It touches thin dry flakes, covering layers of old compacted snow.  A perfect blend of earth and sky.

I look up.  I look down.  I look across the ground, then straight out turning around.  “Haaah,” a wisp of coolness brushes my cheek, adding to this growing memory

Snow reflects light, sparkling without twinkle.  Eyes shift slightly.  Geometric brilliance, subtle yet explosive.

Two dogs remain nearby, as when I first stopped.  One sits behind, her back against mine.  The other in front, much smaller in size, leans to the form of my leg.

These furry creatures, “Man’s best friend.”  They are my translators, bridging the gap between me and this moment.

desi fun

Dylan 1st day of spring

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About Just Jude

I grew up on a small farm in Michigan but have always felt the urge to wander and began doing so as a teenager. Since that time, I've hiked, biked and paddled in every season; not for sport, but for the journey.

Posted on January 12, 2015, in New Hampshire, Snippets in Time and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Lovely!

    Like

  2. Thanks Alice and every one else who “liked” this one.

    Like

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