It sits nestled between two tiny towns in a tiny county in West Virginia, a strong walk up Stranger's Pass. . There tucked away stands a field, a fine one. Only a few dozen acres, you could see clear across to the tree line on to the other side. But nothing about it felt tiny.
And at the east end a powerful old oak, its leaves still making up their mind as to what color they want to be for Fall. It lived its life in a spot unmoved from seed to giant. Now it stood proud, guarding its beloved slice of heaven. Purples and blues of lavender peppered throughout catch my eye, but their sent holds me long after my gaze lets go. Butterfly bushes with their stained glass painted namesakes floating just above line a lightly over grown path that hasn't seen a sole in years. How did I miss this?
A rose bush had bloomed. "Miraculous' I think, more miraculous having no one to tend and care for it, nurture it into the beautiful growth of red petals now before me. My mind flashes back, remembering my grandmother's greenhouse, and how lovingly she cared for her roses. The hours we would pass quietly there. She'd ***** her finger accidentally and smile at me, and I knew that's what made the roses red. But this bush here rivaled hers, and strong it grew on its own. I wondered.
The sun was high in the sky when I stepped through those low hanging branches at the end of Stranger's Pass. It's still glowing in the same spot it hung the first time I was here. I walk the shadow line the sun creates through the field as it slowly works its way along its daily arch. It feels nice to stand tall here, to walk. To take my time.
My mouth hangs open, I don't realize it. My eyes are wide even with the warm bright sun shining on my face. My back straighter than it has been in decades. I have never known the beauty of a place like Lovers Field that drew my body into such an open state of Awe, separate from my mind. It's as though it knows my simple mind too well, and is going to make sure I don't miss what I now see growing all around me. It won't let that happen again.
I once thought I would die in Lovers Field. A long time ago. Thinking about it now, I don't think it would have been that bad. If my heart stopped now, I couldn't be happier than to become part of eternity in a sea of green and gold and life. Back then I fought on. Angry and young. Never once letting the smells and sounds capture me, never once letting the colors take hold of my wrist and guide me home where I belonged. My color palate was Red. A soldier.
We all were. Soldiers. The men (who were barely that) on my right and left left their fathers and mothers and school crushes behind, left their homes as boys. And the boys across the field the same, their eyes flashing red with anger and white with fear.
It's a quick walk to the old oak tree. I take it slowly. My shadow shows long in front of me, the old oak's cast heavy at its back. It's bigger than I remembered. "It's grown," escapes a whisper from my lips. And that makes me smile. At the same moment a sadness fills my chest. I run my calloused fingers along its wide set trunk, catching my ring finger in a bullet hole. I hold it there maybe a moment too long. It was a wound from another day, deep. So deep I could near put my second knuckle to it. Almost feel the shattered metal ball left behind. The chill running through my spine could be alive. "You saved my life once, remember?" That day. I didn't stand tall. My mouth was shut tight and my eyes were pined closed, a boy, a child, hidden behind this old guard.
When I unpinned my eyes...finally, I found not one hole in my flesh. Just the raised and red imprint of bark in my back where I pressed to her with all the force of my cowardly lion legs. I cried.
I trace my hand around her body, until I'm back where I began. Those same legs, sore and weak from the walk finally give out. Again I found myself in the arms of my old friend, this time not hidden by her shadow, but still being warmed by the sun. It was nice to close my eyes next to her not in fear, but in peace. I opened my eyes one last time to look upon the flowers and life of Lovers Field. "You never changed." Breathtaking from the moment my Sergeant ordered me up an unknown path until this day. It has always been this beautiful. How did I miss this?
Hidden holes and trip wires, mines and ambushes. What are those new ones called? "I.E.D.'s"? They're just tools of war. Symptoms of underlying disease. I marched into my own trap. How hate and anger and fear can hide such simple and perfect beauty; that is Life's cruelest and most devastating trap.
I take off my shoes and socks with heavy breaths and clumsy bent fingers and let the dirt and grass feel me for the first time. I don't want to fight anymore. "I'm tired of fighting!" I don't know if she hears me but I imagine she does. The sun line is fading over the tree tops, and a blanket of firefly stars tuck me in. I hear a wolf howl, but feel no fear, no sadness. Nothing but the cool earth of Lovers under my feet. I lean against her, close my eyes, and welcome the night.
This is more of a short story, my first.