Flowers and Dreams

The attic was quiet despite everything happening downstairs. I could hear my sisters running up and down the stairs and my mom had the radio on while she moved furniture around as she set up the bunk beds in the girls’ room. The house had enough rooms that my sisters, Daisy and Poppy, could have each had their own room, but they insisted that as twins, they needed to stay together. Size-wise, the house was definitely an upgrade from our cottage in Hayward, where all three of us girls shared one large room, the master, while Mom was in the much smaller bedroom. The light shining through the three small windows seemed to create stars as I moved around, disturbing the dust that covered everything. While the new old house was large and had many rooms, I had made a deal with my mom that if I could have the attic space for my room, I wouldn't complain too much about the move. So, here I was, cleaning out what looked like centuries of old stuff from grandparents, great-grandparents, and probably even great great-grandparents that no one seemed to have the desire to be rid of.

It was a bit overwhelming. I wasn’t sure where to start. Sort first, I thought. Lamps, chests, broken furniture. Why would people keep broken furniture? I started moving things around. Broken furniture towards the stairs. Boxes and chests along the back wall. Things that I might want to clean up and keep for my room in the middle. Once things were sorted, I would bring the Swiffer and the vacuum up and get rid of the dust I could see and the spiders that I knew were there but I couldn’t see, at least not yet. Ugh!
...
The air was misty with dew, tiny drops of water that wanted to stick to everything except me. I seem to stay dry despite the moisture all around me.

Trees line the path that I’m walking along, standing tall, whispering in their words. What are they saying? Are they wondering who I am? No. They feel protective, like they know who I am and are glad I am here. How do trees feel? Do they speak? I didn’t think so. But maybe.

I could hear chittering and little noises all around me in the trees. Squirrels? Chipmunks? I looked around but couldn’t see anything moving, anything that could be making the noises.

An owl hoots off to my left like it’s asking my name. I thought owls made their appearances at night. It’s not night yet. However, as I look at the sky, I can see that dark isn’t too far off. The light is changing, dimming, hues changing from the soft blue to a filtered yellow-orange of sunset. How long have I been out here?

Suddenly, there is a crashing through the trees above. A large black bird lands on the path ahead of me. A really big crow? Maybe a Raven. Are there Ravens in this area? It turns its head, a large black eye looking at me. It feels like he is staring right into my brain or my heart. He seems to be trying to figure out what I am thinking. Finally, it turns away and takes off back up through the branches. All is quiet again, other than the chittering and the voices of the trees.

The trail seems to go on and on, but I can’t seem to find the town. The path seems to wind as I can’t see further ahead than maybe 20 or 30 feet. I know I’ve walked this way before and it didn’t seem so far. It only took me 45 minutes to get to Aldershire last time. Nothing seems to change, the trees, the little blue flowers. Wait. Were there little blue flowers yesterday? I can’t seem to remember.

Just keep walking, I thought, so I did. On and on until…