The droplets appear as if formed by a pipette and placed on a slide for a research scientist to magnify under a microscope.
*
Whenever
I see traces of tears on a human face I think of those painted on
clowns.
A
couple of droplets, outlined in black and drawn below each sorrowful
eye for the whole world to see, as if sadness is a stain they alone
must carry.
*
Whenever
I see a clown I'm reminded of one that was held in a mirror. Her face a sad white mask that glumly stared out at me and never let me see the whole of my reflection.
*
Whenever
I see a mirror, I think of shining water.Its surface so calm that nothing, not even a light breeze, could disturb its tranquillity.
*
Whenever
I see a body of shining water, I think of a longboat.Drifting gently, in which sits an unaccompanied lady with golden hair. Her mind in turmoil but her exterior, like the lake, unruffled.
*
Whenever
I see a boat, any boat, I think of the sea.Choppy, crashing waves, incoming and outgoing tides, salty air, and seagulls that wheel and scream overhead.
*
Whenever
I see the sea stretching ahead of me, I think of and look for distant
lands.I search the horizon for anything that could be land or people as if only I might spy what others before me have missed.
*
If
I have the good fortune to spy and then travel to distant lands, then
I think of home.Of everything that awaits my return, yet continues to exist as I exist in places foreign to me.
*
When
I see home, a watery film forms over my eyes and threatens to spill.
And this makes me think of a pot of flowering tea, which makes me think of the old apple tree in the far corner of the garden where there once was a swing with a red seat.
*
When
I remember the swing, my mind sees a man with a green watering can in
a different garden, which also had a small paddling pool and a slide.
*
When
I think of the man with the watering can, I see a pale orange car
with black leather seats, and remember how these would burn the backs
of my thighs.
*
When
I remember my red-marked thighs, I see childhood summers: cotton
dresses and white ankle socks and shoes with buckles; long days of
made-up play and family gatherings which were full of colour and
filled with food.
*
Whenever
I reminisce about those summers, I also think of their endings. The hugged goodbyes, not wanting to let go but knowing I had to for another school year beckoned.
*
Whenever
I visualise endings, I think of beginnings.New life, like the arrival of Spring and cherry blossom, and gold bands on fingers.
Picture credit: The Flowering Apple Tree, 1912, Piet Mondrian
