Winter's Night
January 30, 2005 Amacalola Falls, GA
Seiko sat on the roof of her house watching the glitter of twilight off the ice-covered world below her. Rarely had such a wintery scene come upon her in the South.
She enjoyed the quiet. It reminded her, unsurprisingly enough, of places north that felt more like home to her than her own native lands. She thought on that for a long while. She loved her country of birth. But America had become a country she'd laid roots in and deeply cared for. There were things about the people she loathed, but there were things about the people she loved, as well. She'd become a reluctant patriot.
She closed her eyes and tried to meditate, to clear hear thoughts, but she couldn't focus properly.
She opened her eyes again and watched the world darken as clouds again covered the moon and the wind rose sharply, pushing her hair into her face.
She threaded her fingers through her hair and lifted the weight of it ontop of her head, stray pieces escaping in spite of her efforts. She turned her face into the wind and let the biting cold do for her what her dexterous hands could not.
The wind can be irksome or helpful. It is almost intangible, but can never quite be ignored. One is either with the wind..or against the wind. Either way, the wind will do as it pleases.
She lowered her hands and let the wind play with the dark locks as it will. She let the wind blow all the stressing thoughts and unsteady emotions away and a moment of calm descended upon her.
When the winter wind grew tired of it's play, she closed her eyes and savoured the silence anew. She knew the moment of peace she'd found was fleeting. But it was enough to sustain her...and all she needed at the moment was enough.
Seiko sat on the roof of her house watching the glitter of twilight off the ice-covered world below her. Rarely had such a wintery scene come upon her in the South.
She enjoyed the quiet. It reminded her, unsurprisingly enough, of places north that felt more like home to her than her own native lands. She thought on that for a long while. She loved her country of birth. But America had become a country she'd laid roots in and deeply cared for. There were things about the people she loathed, but there were things about the people she loved, as well. She'd become a reluctant patriot.
She closed her eyes and tried to meditate, to clear hear thoughts, but she couldn't focus properly.
She opened her eyes again and watched the world darken as clouds again covered the moon and the wind rose sharply, pushing her hair into her face.
She threaded her fingers through her hair and lifted the weight of it ontop of her head, stray pieces escaping in spite of her efforts. She turned her face into the wind and let the biting cold do for her what her dexterous hands could not.
The wind can be irksome or helpful. It is almost intangible, but can never quite be ignored. One is either with the wind..or against the wind. Either way, the wind will do as it pleases.
She lowered her hands and let the wind play with the dark locks as it will. She let the wind blow all the stressing thoughts and unsteady emotions away and a moment of calm descended upon her.
When the winter wind grew tired of it's play, she closed her eyes and savoured the silence anew. She knew the moment of peace she'd found was fleeting. But it was enough to sustain her...and all she needed at the moment was enough.