Green with envy

August 1, 2016

Greetings from this row,

I have been here all of my life.  I can’t imagine being somewhere else, it would not be right, this is where I am meant to be.  My family is close around me, some close enough to touch.  We are deeply rooted here, it is where we belong.

Those that I know best, those I care about, expect me to be here with them, and they rely on me.   We grew up together.  I have never imagined any other life.

Until this morning.

Every day the sun rises and arcs over us, shares its magic with us and we keep it, store it up, knowing that darkness will follow.  And then the sun returns and we turn toward it.  It is a rich place, a good life. 

I don’t know any different way; I have only a little contrast to compare it to.  The days have grown longer, the air has become warmer.  But otherwise it has been as it always has been.  A few of us have withered in the heat but the evenings have been cool and we are refreshed by the dew and are rested by the stars.

I have always felt content.  This morning we have all been restored, after a soaking rain passed through during the night.  I felt strong; we had all been waiting for the rain.  The morning sky was still filled with swollen clouds, and we all looked up to watch the grey-etched canvas roll over us.

We whispered to one another, grateful for this.  All we are given, sun and rain, we keep with us and grow from it.   It was a good morning, and I could feel the life in me, feel the future.

And then I saw him.  He is not like the other animals we’ve seen.  Not like the small ones that forage at our feet, or the larger ones that hide among us.  He moves on the road in front of me, alone but confident, free from fear.  I can tell he is not fleeing from something, sense the purpose and the power in his movement.

There is a grace in him; not like the swaying of the oak.  He is not moved by the elements but instead commands them.  His limbs seem to push the air, to propel the road under him, spinning the earth under all of us. 

He is King of the World.

I know in a moment that he has seen everything.  I know from the way he moves that he can go anywhere, breach any horizon.  He is brown from the sun and wet from the rain and neither matter to him; it does not make him or stop him.  Wherever he is going it is because he chose it.

He pushes into the light around us, making his own color, bringing his own sound and smell, creating a rhythm from nothing with each step as he moves by.

I feel life surge in me as he goes by, feel something quicken.  It is foreign and unnatural and frightening and it is irresistible.  I know my place and yet suddenly that cannot be enough, cannot be all I was made for.  We only move if the wind offers us that chance, and that has been all we could hope for.  Until now when I see him run past us. 

He is there but for a minute, muscles churning, animal and more than animal.  His legs reaching out onto the pavement, devouring the world in front of him, each step is an extension of his will over his kingdom.  Going and going and going wherever he would be next.  And then he is gone and there is only the same scene I have always known.  This grey rectangle of road and beyond it more rows of green and gold.  My horizon.

I am connected to all of us, feel that through the soil, the shared life we have.  I know from the others who watch him run that his direction is not limited; he is still moving now as I think these thoughts.  He is far from here, still running, moving past others of us.  I feel their desire too.  They are green with envy. We sigh in the wind.

The smaller ones in the shadows, yellow-green and supple, still pushing up to feel the sun, are baptized by the last drops of the night’s rain.  I feel them reaching up.  I know have to help them, to show them what is their future, show them how to grow tall and strong.  It is my place.  My truth.

But even as I think this I know the other truth.  I strain at my roots, leaning from side to side, gently rocking, moving, pretending that the breeze is not behind my freedom.  Those behind me who had not seen him are curious what is happening, sensing something, too polite in our close company to ask.

I feel something give way, the earth around me crumble slightly as I stretch toward a new horizon.  I sway back and lean into my future, and for a thrilling moment I feel weightless and boundless.   For this infinite second I feel the power that he feels.  In this tiny motion I am free, and I know the beauty in it and the terror in it.  I am alive and I am more than alive, I am moving, I am running and I am King of the World.

Hope this finds you growing,

David

Copyright © 2016 David Smith