| Playing Statues |
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| The breeze tugs her skirt, molding it to her legs. Grass licks her bare feet as they cling to the cool moist earth beneath them. The weight of her long hair is eased by the air passing through it. Motionless she stands in a sea of movement, looking out into the sunset. God’s great canvas overflowing with reds, golds, oranges, and a deep purple fit for a king’s robe. The thoughts in her mind are of a man, unknown and faceless, but longed for nonetheless. Her arms before her, her hands pleading, she stands. A few steps away, another stands. Her eyes are on the ground. Her body in motion interrupted. Arms in graceful arcs, legs ready to spring at a word into the next step in a dance. No music plays, but by looking at her face, you know she hears it. Her heart is full of laughter and joy in the warm air teasing her face and the fragrant flowers about her bare feet. As I pass between them, I find it hard to choose. Which is better? Ruth standing at the brink of the hill, the land falling away from her feet, looking out into the future, or Janelle as she is caught relishing the moment of spring. I long to try my hand at capturing a moment, but I cannot unless I choose. “Ruth,” I say finally. Both girls turn to me and smile. My little sister comes running up shouting, “I want to play!” A moment later all is still again as I am now one of those caught in the stillness. Ruth passes between us judging who is best. Ah, the memories that we capture in our youth. The scent of warm sun kissed grass, the feeling of bare feet, and the images in your mind as you try to capture the essence of a moment with your body and expression. The exhilaration of facing the future confident that it holds wonders in it's unseen hands. All I had to do was dream. © 2005 Rachel Rossano |
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