A sparrow alighted on the lawn. Her eyes followed its movement. If only food and shelter were all she had to think of. Life was always so complicated. She reached for her mug of green tea. The gentle aroma levitated just beneath her nose. Its calming affect took hold of her senses. Just for a moment she was lost within it.
A pencil rolled to the floor with a clink.
Writing had always helped her in the past. It had always brought insight and satisfaction to her situation, no matter what it was. Her page was blank. Faded blue lines riveted on the white page bore a likeness to the stain on her life. It wasn't wrong: at least by society's standard. Her friends still thought of her highly, but that's what friends do today. Still, there it was that nagging feeling. Something is wrong.
Strong winds blew across the front porch.
She fingered the green pillow beside her, traced the green cushions. She loved sitting here. Her favorite seat amongst the whole house was an old black bench adorned in green cushions and pillows. Beside her, her seedlings popped beneath the soil, small tributes to life. Green cushions, green pillows, green tea, green seedlings. She loved the color green. She had put it together. It was her forte. She loved to decorate houses, rearrange everything . Oftentimes she would be teased about every new set up that she made. It occurred at least once every month if not more.
A sparrow returned to its nest unsuccessful in its hunt.
In fact, the only thing she could not rearrange was her life. She wanted something more. The fullness of life seemed to be just out of reach. Yet it remained unmoved. Was she afraid? Was she afraid to leave her present state? Or was it that she was afraid to arrive in a new state? She reflected on her past. She had the chance so many times. Yet every time, she passed by; a failure.
The wind rustled with the page in her hand.
Write? Write what? Write of failures and regrets? Write a memory of what could have been or will be? How unlike her to be mulling her thoughts in self pity and depression. The page remained blank. Perhaps it will for another week or so. The dishes need cleaning. Her husband will be home for lunch soon.
The screen door snapped behind her.
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