Golden Hour
Doris strolled under the canopy of trees, light and shade flickering through heavy branches, their leaves golden like honey.
She paused under a shaft of sun, its warmth sparkling against her bare arms, the black fabric of her suit jacket hot and heavy in her hands. In an effort to appear casual, she tossed her jacket over her shoulder and tried to let go of the pressure she felt to return to the office. Yes, the demands would be piling in. But she didn’t want to face them. Not yet. The hushed cocoon of the city park was beginning to infuse her limbs with a heaviness. A teasing glimpse of the heaviness that comes from deep relaxation.
She walked on, tension cascading to the ground with each dusty step in the gravel.
The demands could wait.
She chose a narrow path snaking in the opposite direction of her office and ambled further from the park’s entrance, away from the busy city streets, car horns honking, the air laced with a tart fog. Away from the incessant jingling bell of requests. Walking was good. Restorative. The break was important. She stopped still. Essential even.
In fact, maybe she just wouldn’t go back. Just today. Maybe she could take the rest of the afternoon off.
She sighed and then slowly inhaled, filling her lungs with the last of the sweet summer blooms. A speckled brown bird, no bigger than a teacup, fidgeted to a stop in front of her, trilling out its call. Somewhere in the distance its mate answered, the tune singsonging along in the breeze. If only life could be as simple. They weren’t overwhelmed. Drowning. Alone.
To the right of the bird was a patch of grass and Doris lay out her jacket, tufts of weeds wrinkling the sleek silk of the lining. Dropping to her knees with a thunk, slipping and sliding against the fabric, she crumpled to a heap. The bird eyed her, its head jerking back and forth, its black eye glistening. She reached forward into the grass and splayed open her hand, twisting her fingers into the blades. She ripped a handful from the earth, the grass bleeding fresh dew over her fingers. She held her hand up to the light and then released her grip, letting the blades fall and watching them dance their way back to the earth.
Maybe she wouldn’t ever go back.
Maybe she couldn’t.
Doris dropped her head, and at last, gave in to the tears.
