Date: Fri, 8 May 1998 08:56:02 -0700 From: Linda Gauff Subject: sub: Intro + short essay Hi - I'd like to introduce myself and submit an essay at the same time thus saving a little space. My name is Linda and I like to write mostly non-fiction, essays and such. I've been working on my BA in English for about a million years. I admit I like to lurk and live vicariously through you all. This little piece is just something that popped out and I'm not really looking for any crits, I just needed to vent. Thanx for listening. Linda An Essay of Hope The thunder storm passes quickly. I wait for it to finish so I can go for my ritual walk free of danger - at least from the weather. I like to walk. Walking is good for the mind and rejuvenating the soul. It is a beautiful, fresh spring evening. In the west the sky is bright and clear even though the sun has set. Overhead the dark gray clouds drift along and I can see the storm to the east still moving at a steady pace with flashing lighting and low rumbling thunder. The cool air caresses my face and I button my flannel against the lingering dampness. I trek down a sidestreet with no particular destination in mind, lost in my thoughts. The tree branches overhead create a canopy and ahead of me the sidewalk is littered with dogwood flower petals knocked down from the rain. My imagination wanders and I picture a chapel - the aisle strewn with petals from the flower girl - a wedding. But it isn't my wedding, at least not anymore. The man I love has chosen another woman with the name of a flower that I used to love so much. Flowers he used to bring me, sometimes by the dozen, sometimes just one sweet red bud, but no more. As I walk along I try not to step on the petals, but it is no use. My feet crush them just like my hopes and dreams - there's no avoiding it. It's best to keep moving and not dwell in any one spot too long. My feet carry me further along and I meander down sidestreets following the potent scent of lilacs. Lilacs bring fond memories of Mother's Day bouquets wrapped in wet paper towels and aluminum foil. The rain has intensified the fragrances of the evening and I stop a moment to inhale deeply and concentrate on the bouquet all around me: fresh cut grass and I think of tumbling on the lawn, laughing at the weeds sticking in his hair; a whiff of smoke - perhaps a barbecue, reminiscent of fourth of July gatherings with family and friends. I imagine fireflies and I'm startle by their realness until I realize that it is lightning still flashing in the distance. I reluctantly bring myself back to the present and continue on my journey. My senses feel heightened by the leftover electricity in the air and I listen to the evening sounds. The steady dripping of the excess rain water from the leaves of a large maple makes a soothing sound. From the next street over I hear the splashy noise of car tires on wet pavement but the street is empty here by me. In the distance the eerie cry of a goose and the echo of its mate returning the call intensify my mood of melancholy. I arrive by the lake and the still water reflects the steel gray of the clouds overhead. There is a break in the cloud cover and a hazy luminescent moon peeks out casting a silvery streak on the lakes surface. The only movement on the lake is the wake left by a single white swan gliding effortlessly along. I sit on a bench and let my thoughts wander. It's dark now and the sun has gone from my sky, The last bit is covered by the heavy black clouds and a cool rain has begun to fall. I've tried to out-walk my sadness but to no avail. I guess I hoped if I walked long enough I would end up somewhere - at some meaningful destination. I want to go home now. I know the way and my feet are aching to take me there but, it's not my home anymore. So I turn around and go back in the direction that I started from. I'm grateful for the darkness and the rain that hide my tears.