I always knew I was different. I could feel the world flow but I could never mock the motion. Always feeling out of place. No matter where I moved I never felt like there was a “home”. It just felt like I don’t belong on earth.
as a kid I remember running through this meadow. The grass high,mixed will all kinds of grain and wild flowers. Smooth when you run your hand up its stock but pokey at the end of the grain, where it’s barbs grasp your fingers and wedge it’s spines into your skin as if it where a hook settle ing between scales on a fish. The soil is firm, but moist enough to keep the smell of just after the rain To cling to the air. The dirt whipes clean off your feet but not without leaving dark stains on your soles. The meadow is flat and looks like a rolling sea of grain When the wind whips bye. Twards the south, there is a jagged cliff that has risen above the meadow. Ever so gently a stream trickles down the face of it. The water, so gracefully weaves down the middle of the meadow, not very wide nor very deep, glimmers fluidly over littered gems that tumble peacefully on its bottom. To the north, a forest of aspen trees whisper their secrets in the wind as their colours seem to paint the warm breeze that flows between them. Their colours are radiant and unique to this sanctuary. Radiant and exotic shades, as if a new light spectrum are reflected off the tall standing figures. To the east and west, are sets of identical sillhoutted mountain ranges. Close enough to see the treeline but far enough to know you’ll never reach it. The sky is never with the sun at mid day. Always, it hugs the horizon, constantly rising or forever setting.
I have so many memories of playing in the meadow; running my hands through the stream, creating an adventure in the tall grass and watching the few clouds above sway bye. Some adventures are just bright flashes and pictures. Little clips of a video that begin and end with a bright light and my eyes adjusting to the memory. Like a camera adjusts to a bright light exposure. They play as fillers in my dreams. Memories where time has vanished. Always did I seem alone never did I feel alone.
there was always something off about this peaceful place. Something that just never seemed to add up. As a kid you don’t really pay attention to the little details. You are more about living in the moment. it has always been my nature to question things. Everything needed to be justified. These memories I had never thought to questiom, I had no reason to pick out their flaws. They were always so tried and true. But knowing what I know now I know they just seem like bright moments in a hollow illusion.
I have memories as a toddler, a kid, a teen and young adult being placed in that meadow. Never could I show you how to get there or point it out on a map. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I just know that somewhere this meadow exists.
the memories are so real; the feeling of the tall grain in my hands, the smell of the just after the rain, the sound of the leaves blowing in the wind, the taste of the crisp water that cooled my insides, the fluid moment of the grass in the breeze. but now I doubt these memories. So surreal, too good to be true. I know it was just an illusion.
an elaborate set up to help mask the gravity of my reality. By some power by some forces unknown, I had been chosen to carry on a great task and through the illusion of the meadow they would teach me. This is my story of how it all began.