Amelia opened her black umbrella immediately before she strode out the door. Why had she purchased a black umbrella? She didn’t care for black items; she preferred more bright and colorful accessories like her fuchsia leather purse and magenta deer skin gloves. Just as she remembered why her umbrella was black, a blaze of lightning and roaring thunder shook her. Her eyes shifted upward. When was the last time she had enjoyed nature’s artistry?
The sheets of rain poured from the sky, beating on her umbrella like a drummer’s riff. As Amelia turned to walk the shiny flagstone path, she noticed tiny gray-green creatures frantically hopping left, right, over her feet. Tree frogs, she thought, happy to freely leap, sensing that death would no longer become them. What sense was there in squashing these playful critters anyway? She smiled slightly and lifted her head observing through the rain the leafy trees lining the path. Her eyes followed the trees out the yard, cut off by blacktop, continuing on the other side of the street, flourishing over the land and marching up the mountain. The last time Amelia gave notice to the mountain was the day she moved to this town. She remembered her life was full of hope, grand expectations, and…
Another shot of lightning; this one over the group of trees across the street. Was it following her line of sight? Amelia had always believed in omens and premonitions, until her life changed. Perhaps, now, with the weight lifted, she could find that magical part of her she had lost. No, not lost, given up, all for the sake of the illusion of happiness. But, wasn’t happiness something you find and not make?
The rain eased as Amelia gingerly walked the path. As she approached her mailbox she spied tiny violet flowers encircling the mailbox post. Her smile peaked again, and there was a glimmer in her eyes. She stooped down and gently touched the delicate lime-green stems feeling the minute water droplets from the petals. Was it the shimmer of the water or the gleam in her eyes that made these flowers bright and surreal? Why had she never seen these before? Had she been so dominated, so isolated from the outside world that she did not know what lived in her own yard?
Amelia rose slowly. On the way up she focused on the tree trunks a street-width from her. I’m on my own schedule now, she announced to herself; I do not have to be anywhere or do anything that is not of my choice! Her smile filled her face and her mouth opened just wide enough to let out a girlish giggle. Amelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the fresh, warm dampness. She dropped her umbrella near the mailbox – being sure not to injure the petite flowers – took off her sensible shoes and walked barefoot across the road.
Standing with hands on her hips, to the assembly of trees she announced, “I’d like to go for a walk amongst you. I promise not to pick your fruit without permission, and will steer clear of any exposed roots, if you will promise to not whack me with your dead branches. Do we have a deal?”
The rain had nearly stopped, but there was still the sound of rogue drops hitting leaves. Cool air scented of pine and antique wood streamed from inside the grove. Amelia entered. This time, she said to herself, this time I will not take my life for granted. She raised her arms from her side, held her palms and face toward the sky and began to laugh and dance freely in the soft, wet grass.
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