rushing

When I close my eyes, I hear the feisty waves on the lake and smell the delicate floral notes in the air. I feel the spray of the crashing water on my face and I am refreshed.

Earlier, I’d wandered out to the empty corner of the park, where the grass was overgrown and the flowers bloomed wildly. A bush of white flowers caught my eye. Excitedly, I plucked a stem from the bush.

Ouch!

I pulled back and watched as a small trickle of blood pooled and rolled down my finger into my palm. I stepped onto the wet rocks and dipped my hand into the icy water, watching the red swirl away before me.

I reflected on the temporary nature of everything… pain, grief, anger, guilt… and felt my stress melting away. As I sat against a tree, the grass up to my knees, I felt calm at last.

The waves will rise again.

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Megan is a writer, poet and visual artist. She lives with her cat son Felix in South Texas and enjoys tea, fuzzy blankets, most foods, and reading. Here, you can find bits and pieces of what she’s working on.

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