Saturday, April 2, 2011

Coal Roads

The first trick I learned on the camera was to point and click. Sometimes the pictures were blurry sometimes the subject got lost in the background. But I just kept taking picture after picture of the same thing until I learned where it looked good and started applying that to other pictures I took. Today I am taking pictures of strawberry blossoms. I am anticipating red berries framed by the black coal road and spreading out over the many fields that rest beside it. Today it is just black and white.

I chose the dress with the patterns of other countries, countries that people warn you are not safe, that I only visit in dreams and National Geographics. I try on three pair of shoes, but they all make me feel trapped so I walk down the black road in my bare feet, there is no one around for miles. I no longer feel scared that something will happen to me and there’ll be no one there to help.

When people go by they wave, it’s pretty easy to know I like walking. I only get offered a drive if the road is rough or the weather is bad; even then I have to think about accepting a drive. Sometimes I just want to go for long distances really fast sometimes I want the world to go by fast. But today I walk slow and it feels like the day will last forever.

We are all miners. We all go deep into earth and life, with the ability to pull laughter and friendship out of the darkness. We all go underground before the sun comes up and come up when the sky starts to turn orange and purple and pink.

I stop by the river and take pictures of the blossoms. From the back of my camera I know which shot I want to hang on my wall. I will point it out to everyone who enters my door. Show them this part of me; let everyone fall in love with this little flower.

After I’ve found my perfect photo, I walk to the centre of the river. The water only comes up to my ankles and I wash off my feet, for a moment they shine, and I can see veins and open pours. The minnows all scatter unhindered but the speed of the water rushing from the lake. As the dark coal washes away, I see cuts and scrapes from day; the icy water sooths.

From the road I see a car stop. The man driving asks if I wanted a drive says:

"That's a pretty dress."

I walk up from the river.

“Would you like to see my picture?”

He holds out his hands, and I let the stranger hold the camera, but he just looked at me and handed it back.

“There are so many strawberry blossoms this time of year.”

Then I shook my head and continued walking and placed my camera back around my neck.

Would I have gotten in if he had fallen in love with the flower?


  1. This is magical, Frosty! I mean it is really really special writing about a really really special walk and train of thought.

    It is so important to be able to be alone and unafraid. Part of the battle is won with that victory.

  2. Thank you so much for your kind words. I like that you mentioned train of thought, I studied Virgina Woolfe a lot in University, though never really connected with her, I feel connected though with the idea of my writing being stream of consciousness, gives me a focus and answers some questions.

    I love being alone, it's a big decision to accept it fully. Hearts. C.