The road less traveled

 

"Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower" — Hans Christian Andersen

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Today, as soon as I woke up, the shadows lurked around me, wontedly. Creeping and prowling around the mattress, the ghosts of the past awaited my next move. Ah, not today. I had enough of you already. I dismissed them with a twist of the wrist, somewhat annoyed. I allocated myself out of the bed, not without a bit of resistance, and I got primed to start the day.

With a flick of the switch, the light bursts in. I clear the desk, unclutter my mind. Brushes and tubes of paint are placed and ready. The noise of this world must be quietened, silenced, and so the headphones come on. The music resounds. Then, and only then, I open the door to my soul.
 

 
There's a piece of light cardboard in front of me. It's a residuum, the remainder of a cereal box; trash for some, but a potential artifact for others. The gray of the material says nothing to me, and so I choose to fill the space with light. Titanium white does the job, crafting a truly blank canvas for me to create on.

I paint, and as I do, I dream. In the whiteness, they appear; the images of the life yet to be lived, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. I build it from the ground: first, the soil, with its earthy colors. Then, some leaves, or flowers, or both. They rest on the land, they are one with it. I could have stopped there, but the hand wished otherwise, and so the brush waltzed over the surface. Some tree trunks arise, filling the scape. Their foliage comes not far behind.
 

 
I notice the absence of a sky. Silly me, how can my dream not have some blue? Not all is lost, and a small-tipped brush comes to the rescue, dotting the empty areas with a lovely shade of good weather. It pleases me so.
 

 

 
A few chunks of dry gouache serve the purpose of adding texture. I sign the piece, but there's still something missing. Aha! I know what it is. Grabbing the cuts of unused cardboard, I draw two figures. I crop them out, and I give them light. Titanium white light, again. Now, onto the matter of placing them in my dream. I don't have an appropriate glue, yet I lose no courage. The paint will do. Wet white on the other side, and... There! It's complete.
 

 
Sunday morning. They make breakfast, together. Laughter and light fill the room. Every room they are in. Weekends are for tending to the matters of the house, but not without a well-deserved encounter with nature first. They leave the house, no phones needed, only the required gear attached to their bodies and a simple yet tasty collation. He knows how hungry she gets.

Taking the road less traveled, they begin the ascent. A comfortable silence sits between them. Those first minutes immersed in the forest are precious, and they both respect it. Nothing but the sound of two pairs of booted feet pressing on the mushy layers of leaves. The everythingness of nature welcomes them with the aroma of the morning dew. They hold hands and walk forward.

A rhythmic sound, their synchronized breathing, floods the atmosphere around them. His cardiovascular condition is better, and so she struggles a bit to keep up. She is starting to get tired, and it amuses her. It's playtime. Stopping all of a sudden, she crouches on herself as if regaining composure. He asks if she's okay, and she nods, giving him a sideways glance that goes unnoticed.

He walks around for a bit, giving her time to rest before approaching her again. He frowns, slightly worried, as she is still hunkered down. Just as his hand reaches for her shoulder, in a caring gesture, she bolts forward and makes a run for the top of the hill. Halfway there, she stumbles with a root and falls face-first, choking with laughter.

Grinning, he walks toward her, who continues to roll around on the floor, cracking up, gasping for air. He throws himself over her, keeping her still, and a blanket of sensual silence covers them as they stare into each other's eyes. His breathing touches her lips, and she inhales with eagerness. Simultaneously, their faces start showing those unique smiles of them, and they know it's indeed time for a stop.
 

"You are there, I am yours; I am here, you are mine."

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This post responds to yet another amazing weekly topic, proposed by Galen for the Weekend Engagement. You can find the original post, containing all the prompts and rules, here. If you're reading this and haven't participated, kindly allow me to encourage you to do so. I promise you'll have fun! And if you've already written your entry, be sure to check other authors' take on the topic. There are a lot of interesting views out there.

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^{Everything in this post is mine. Except for the quotes.}

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^{I'd like to thank you for reading this. I hope my words resonated with you in some way. If they did, or even if they didn't, I'd like to further connect with you, so I invite you to drop a comment and I'll answer it as soon as I can.}