I never tire of it
30 May 2011 06:50 AM Categories: Writing prompts
The quality of the air changes according to the season, thin and biting in the winter, the layers of shirt, sweater, scarf, coat, hat. My feet crunch in the snow, the ground reflects starlight, and every house, every window tells a story. In urban Columbus, we took our dog walks at night together, me, Mr. X, and sheltie-dog Loudon, walked by the old Victorians, the brick Italianates, the houses with brightly colored gingerbread and lace curtains. We glimpsed in windows to catch a bit of artwork, a hand caressing the back of someone’s hair, the unkempt mop, the rake of fingernails, a little girl on a swing floating across the living room.
In the country, along Eastern Shore roads, there were no streetlights, the houses kept their distance with thick boundaries of lawn. My neighbors, paranoid with their motion-sensitive security lights and their barking dogs, closed thick curtains at the first sign of darkness. I focused on the air, always summer-hot in my memory, so many stars above, the musical notes of the crickets accompanying my step. Without the distraction of sunlight, of other peoples’ lives and belongings, sensation became paramount: pushing through the thick humidity, the pain of gravel on my feet, the wind shaking tree branches.
Berkeley nights are cold and damp. During the evening dog walks, I watch the sky, dodge the street cats, glance into bungalows to see the built-ins, the families in dining rooms, reading on couches. I admire quirky artwork and wooden trim through window glass. If I’m lucky, the sky is clear, the stars low. I can trace the flight of the planes against deep blue, identify the planets to the dog, who doesn’t care a whit about the sky, but instead sniffs the flowers, the tree trunks, the bare patches in the grass.
From the prompt "I never get tired of it." This morning I slept in (until 5:30: yay!) and didn't start writing until immediately after I took my medication. Writing with the initial medication-induced heart-racing is not a good thing. It's harder to corral my thoughts. I'm beginning to have my doubts about the little purple pills, but have to keep taking them for at least a month to see if they are effective. Messing with neurochemistry is scary.
I'm posting every messy Round Robin prompt, a prompt a day until the RR ends. Unless I tell you otherwise, this is the original 12-minute prompt edited only for clarity and typos.This one needed a bit of tightening up.
Image by prophetofdelphi.
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