Chapter 1 - You and They
Day One
You don’t have memory of a before, nor an after. Every day you are getting to know your self. Sometimes you look at flowers. You really like the flowers. Other days you sit by the rippling river and watch the salmon trip over one another to go upstream. Nothing is more lovely.
****
You were chasing a rabbit through the trees when you find your house. You know it is your house because you don’t perceive property. It is something you simply use. You spend the night exploring it. The inside smells of old wood but the wind stays off your back and warm. You take a nap indoors but soon the sounds of the night call you outside. You sleep better under the sky.
The next morning you wake up and see them first. They are hanging colorful clothing over a string, the breeze pulling at the edges. They are half hidden by the clothing and its not until you stand up to stare you realize they are like you. They catch sight of you and you smile, waving cheerfully. They scream and run inside and you are left to wonder what they are so afraid of.
But you are so excited you never think that maybe it could be you. It’s been you for so long, although you and time are friendly, you aren’t sure how much has passed. You take a walk down the stream behind the wooden house, watching the gleam of the water reflect back at you, heading down stream.
You stand up, wondering if they’d come back yet. They have! You run up to their side of the vine fence, but are halted by the look they give you. Its alright, you tell yourself. They will understand you will be a great friend. You know it.
You only get them to come down the steps of their wooden home by backing up a few feet away. And only when you sit, do they sit and you are so happy. How excited you are to have a new friend!
They are sitting inside field similar to yours, pulling at greens from the earth. From this distance you know they are herbs and roots and other greens but you take care not to get too close. They give you a look each time you move any closer to them.
Smiling you lay down, and watch their upside figure dig through the dirt. You nap under the full sun, so excited that you tired yourself out and when you wake up in the evening, you find they’ve covered your face with one of their dry clothes. Glancing around you hope to thank them but they are already gone. You smell it, it reminds you of pinecones and pine needles.
****
You’ve stayed on your side of the grass for days now. You’ve set the shirt over their side of the fence, with a little flower you found by the stream. You never knew that saying hello could be so hard. They have such a serious face its almost comical. As you chew on a blade of grass, you think about the things you know. You are certain they have been here longer than you - they have many things inside their wooden house and they come out each day wearing something different.
You wonder how they manage to sleep inside all through the night. The outdoors calls to you too loudly. Maybe the wind against your skin makes you calm or maybe its the feeling of rolling on the grass that does that. You only sleep under the sky.
Rolling on your stomach, head on your hands, you watch as they weave a basket from the longer blades of grass. Intrigued you come a little closer. They haven’t said anything so you come forward again. Still nothing. Finally you are standing on the edge of the land, right in front of their fence. They look up and make eye contact with you then look down and keep working.
You stand their quietly, watching them for a few more minutes before bounding away, so excited they didn’t seem to mind your presence. You run down the hill, all the way to the bottom, running past the trees and the wind swirled your hair around your face. You. Are. So. Happy.
****
You have taken to sitting next to their fence. They must have decided to trim the vines because now you can see through clearly now. You spend a good part of the day watching them, and then heading your own way to explore the area some more. There are so many beautiful things to explore. You climbed the top of a pine tree, picking one of the seeds for your new friend.
You had to wash your hands with stones and the stickiness didn’t leave for a few days after but each time you sniffed them you smelled like a pine tree. They accepted the gift, and after a slight hesitation, they said thank you, with a imperceptible smile. But you noticed, and you are beaming. They are warming up to you, you can tell.
Maybe you were more approachable with the pine needles in your hair, or maybe they really liked pine sap smell too. Whatever the reason, they spoke to you today and you went to sleep fitfully tonight.
****
You finally got them to say more than hello or good morning to you. The topic was so sudden and non-specific that it was irrelevant compared to the fact that they are talking to you!
Maybe the first thing you talked about were the zucchini’s. Or was it more about why you liked the winter? You said good morning today too. There must have been something in the fresh air that gave you the nerve to shout so early in the morning.
****
It has been two weeks since they said thank you and now you talk more often with one another. They have shared their name with you. It feels nice to say. Its lovely in the way ephemeral or lavender is.
Now that you are allowed to openly conversate, you ask questions about all the curious habits they have, like why they wear blue on most days and yellow on others. They find your questions funny and they can’t help laughing after you ask them. You have also made some of your own discoveries.
You like their smile. Its softens their face and they remind you of a summer’s breeze.
Other times the two of you do not talk, you lie there napping while they hum to themselves, thinking you can’t hear. You like the sound so much you act like you can’t hear them just in case they decide to stop. Eventually you catch yourself humming to yourself and the secrets out.
But they don’t stop humming, singing actual words now. You spend the rest of the evening, listening to them sing while you braid your own basket.
****
Today is the first day they awake at the same hour as you. You lay in your favorite spot, lifting a flower to your nose. They are pulling greens from their garden again, weeding as they say, but they will eat it later. You never feel hunger, but you wouldn’t mind to taste what they make. You think this to yourself, watching as they go indoors to get more seeds, their golden hair moving in the sunshine.
You wouldn’t mind waking up to that sunshine.
And when they come back, you wave at them.
****
They have begun to stay out longer to talk with you. The sun setting before they head indoors. They are also spending time with you; you’ve taught them how to lie so still it feels like they've grown roots.
They have also started hanging out by the front porch of their house in the evenings more. The last time you were there, a rocking chair that had once been pink was sitting there. You no longer wondered if they would be back again.
That evening they sat there and told you about the things they had seen and collected, touching a seashell that sounded like waves crashing on a shore, or so they said.
****
After hearing stories of all the things they had in their home, you have collected a small rock for today. You know that tomorrow you are going to bring something beautiful, something that makes you smile.
****
The nights were less quiet now, noisy wasn’t the right word. They weren’t noisy, just talkative. You never would have thought they had so much to say. So much they wanted to say. And you didn’t mind listening. You had brought out your chair, a log you’d brought home on your journey through the woods. It was just sitting there, looking at you, asking for a home.
And when you sat it on the front porch of your house, you caught them smiling at you.
You told them about your collection and it made them laugh. They find your method of collecting funny. You tell them your walls and cupboards are of full of flowers and plants, pots of soil and moss, a few stones rubbed smooth, and you tell them that you’d bring in your favorite patch of sun if only you could.
****
You invited them into your home, showing them the trinkets you had laid out carefully to remember things. It is late by the time you finish but you are not tired. They seem awake too. When they head out the door back to their house, you're watching them. And when you head in again, you catch a whiff of their smell. You might just sleep inside today.
And you were putting your new collection of stones away when you catch yourself wondering if they would wear a yellow shirt tomorrow. Tomorrow you might bring up blues and how you like lemon on your fish, and how the days seem shorter. You’re sure that its something they wouldn’t already know about you. You want to share everything with them. Sleep takes you before you know it and that is your first time sleeping indoors.
****
You don’t recall when you stopped counting the days but one day you found yourself opening your eyes, excited to tell them about the dream you had. And you realize, you just might love them.
