There’s a breath of wonder in the air and it whispers to me of stillness and solidity. What would it be like, to be anchored by the weight of your own body rather than suspended by it? To have a body that can touch and merge with and part from another while keeping its own shape and substance and essence? I will never know. I am me and you are you; we’re what we are and we’re not what we aren’t. But are we so different? With the passage of time your body, like mine, shifts and stretches and changes. It will disintegrate and dissipate and grow to form different shapes, over and over again. Time changes you as time changes me, as time changes everything.

There’s a change in the light that sends color streaking through my veins. Some look at me and see beauty, some look at me and see nothing, and some don’t look at me at all. You and I are no different.

There’s an ache in the breeze as it leads me past you, time pulling the sun behind the ocean, pulling me apart. The light siphons the color out of my limbs and it’s gone before I can call it mine. I let it go. There is no use trying to hold on to something isn’t going to stay.

Needing to look, to see, I rush out onto the balcony, the chill of the ground seeping into my bare feet. I hug my arms around myself and bring my eyes to the sky. Cotton candy clouds pass over my head, pink on blue, and then gray on purple, and then over and away and gone. I stand there in the fading light, rooted to the ground by only the tips of my toes.



8 thoughts on “Tiptoes

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  2. I was caught by the poetry of your words right away, but this part, “The light siphons the color out of my limbs and it’s gone before I can call it mine.” took my breath away. Beautiful writing. Thanks for participating in this week’s challenge! 🙂

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