Closed Windows, Opened Doors

Among the Ashes

I sat alone underneath the old oak tree, the cool morning air moist and the grass beneath me still damp with glistening dew. A tiny sparrow chirped in the branches above me, his curious black eyes glinting, and he was soon answered by his companion, who was hidden somewhere in the boughs of the ancient tree. The two began a joyful melody, singing as they flitted from branch to branch. Their notes rang clear and sharp, their tune in time with the rhythm of the morning. I smiled at them and put the book I had been reading into my backpack, stretching out on my back on the lawn, staring at the blue sky which had recently been illuminated by the golden light of the sun. The new, green blades of grass soflty brushed my arms and the sweet-smelling dew clung to my skin and clothing.

It was a cloudless and radiant spring day, one of those days that smells of new flowers and gentle breezes, and I had arrived at school early to relax on the grass near the plaza, by myself, as I had for the past few months. I'd spent so much time underneath this particular tree; it had seen the tears I tried to hide from the world and it had been good to me, letting me rest in its calm shadow. It had been my only friend. This mass of wood, skeletal branches, leaves, and deep reaching roots had been there for me more than anyone else had.

Peace and quiet underneath my tree, or at least the tree that I affectionately referred to as mine, helped me to forget all that had transpired since the beginning of the year. But forgetting didn't take the pain away, it only delayed it. No matter how many times I pretended that I wasn't standing among the ashes of a world that was crumbling into nothingness, I still was. I could close my eyes for a few moments, drifting off to a world where the harshness of reality could not follow me, but when I opened my eyes again it all came flooding back. There was no end to my torment.

I shut my eyes and breathed in the scent of the blossoming daisies, the smell of the wet grass and damp earth. The wind whispered my name as it danced through the trees. 

"Ruth," it sang. "Ruth... Ruth... Ruth."

I gave no reply to the breeze, my breathing relaxed as I lay there, feeling the sun upon my skin and the grass beaneath me, hearing the birds sing. I wanted nothing more than to enjoy this rare moment of serenity, to hold on to it for as long as I could.

Because when it was over, it was back into the world of hungry flames and crumbling ashes, back to the world of dust and mold and decay.