Sundance Street

I arrived at a familiar street, where I knew had another park where I could idle myself by and let my dog, Hunter, play around in. Sundance Street, the street was called. The park itself was not named, as far as I was concerned. The area was a wide, secluded enclosure filled with all sorts of flowers and greenery and had a fountain empty of water right smack in the middle. It seemed to me from far away already that this place would be the perfect place to temper my raging thoughts, no matter how hopeful, frightening, or confusing they were. The park seemed truly a peaceful place and it seemed like it would serve as a great venue to guide my mind into a stillness that it has had difficulty in finding for awhile. I had passed by this street on occasion during my infrequent bike rides before, but I would pass by it pedaling so quickly that I wouldn’t see the quiet I could have shared with it. I sat myself on the corner of the fountain, watching Hunter frisk himself away on the wet grasses of the park. He was having so much fun with so little. I could not help but feel a slight envy.

There by the fountain, I closed my eyes and communed with my mind, wondering (hoping) if it would finally say something to me now. For days now, I had tried looking deep into myself for that voice that had always been there whenever I was quiet and carefully brushing with peace. The voice that was always kind and soft-toned, it was always telling me things I wanted to hear. I stayed still for awhile, searching for this lost voice to speak to me again, to reassure me of the things I would be needing to do and the places I would be needing to go. But for a moment, it was to no avail. There was only silence and I was disappointed. I was about to give up, to open my eyes and light another cigarette, when a whisper, something like a faint whisper, began to hum to me its gentle tune. The whispers were friendly. They were good. I waited for it to grow louder, or to come closer, until it reached the point where I could finally make sense of it. The voice eventually spoke, and when it did, I began to listen.

Your dreams will be yours one day.

Though few ever realize theirs.

Somehow you will.

Because you never looked for much.

And in those final days.

Somewhere in a changing tide.

The wind will be at your feet.

You will have wings.

Love will sing in your eyes.

And it will never fade away.

Not everything will be meant to fade away. 

I listened carefully and wrote it all down on my pocket journal. Whenever the voice spoke to me and the world did not drown its sound, I would hold out closely to its words. The music would be so clear and so beautiful, that I would keep my eyes closed with abandon, letting something real and deep stir inside me. It was filling me up with something heavy and yet something light, something I had long since thought lost in my life. I was left speechless. A curtain of mist was slowly tucking itself, unveiling something beneath the sunlight boldly peering through the branches of the garden trees. Beyond the damp clouds ready to unload, underneath every hanging leaf about to fall, it was there, lying in wait for me, and it was holding fire until one day, it would be discovered.

Meaning.

I was pleased with the words I have written and with the fact that something, even something inanimate, believed in me and what I could be for myself. Hunter was staring at me and I smiled at him because I knew, like the voice, that I will always be there for him in the same way the voice has been for me. The voice reminded me that there was meaning in all the small things in life and that meaning didn’t always have to be desperate attempts towards love or success. There was only to love what we have and to know that life has a purpose for everything, even though in the harsh realities of life, that becomes extremely hard to believe.

I could smell the earth, as we started our way back home. The rain was holding out and the clouds were continually shaping out to be a spring through which life will continue to flow. I saw the entire expanse of the sky and I was proud to be living under such vastness. In moments such as these, I knew deep inside that I am not just living. I am alive.

7

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