Since the death of her husband, she has lived on her own in the house on the hill. For years now, living with no one by her side, she got used to the silence. The silence which she shared with the sun lurking through the windows, casting its shadows over her living space. She also got used to the wind blowing stubbornly on a calm autumn evening, bringing freshness and positivity.
Each and every morning she waited anxiously for the black bird with yellow peak to tap on her kitchen window in anticipation to get fed. She felt obliged to share a stale piece of bread with this visitor, crumbling it into numerous small fragments, and leaving them on the window sill, as a gesture of goodwill. However, in return, while having her afternoon snack, she was performed the most beautiful melody of all.
‘It is amazing how a human being is able to adopt to the circumstances’, she thought and as she smiled to her own destiny, she habitually strolled down to the kitchen, put the kettle on and waited for the water to boil. Today, she seamed fully engaged with the noise and the bubles being made inside the kettle. She poured the steaming hot water over the tea leaves and covered the mug to allow some time for the tea to brew. Then she prepared two pieces of toast with peanut butter and jam and with loaded tray left the house to sit on the porch overlooking the back garden. It was at this time of the day when her little friend was performing the best pieces of music and for nothing in this world she liked to miss that magical performance.
Enchanted by it’s performance, she decided to stay surrounded by her own thoughts, playing with her own breath, breathing fresh energy in and letting go off any stale thoughts and emotions. With closed eyes, she continued exercising her sences, sensually feeling the sun rays warming up her skin, the breeze going through her hair, and the rich sound from the wind chimes somewhere in the distance. No other thoughts were occupying her attention rather than intense emotions still flowing from the past. She flicked her hair and opened her eyes as if to erase them all. She had desire to avoid any connection with her disturbing past, so she fully enagaged her taste buds with the freshly made peanut butter and jam sandwiches.
Suddenly, tears poured down her cheeks, a fur ball got stuck in her throat and the taste of her past stayed in her mouth. She remembered that this type of sandwiches were her husband’s favourites and how they were lovingly sharing them while camping up and down the country. She poured some milk in the mug and as the milk lighten up the colour of the liquid, her thoughts brighten up too. She let her tears dry out on her eyelashes and her cheeks, as she couldn’t care less to wipe them off. Instead, with a silver pin set with gems, put her hair up, and her pashmina scarf around her shoulders and went down the path to the garden shed. The wooden shed was tucked behind some mature bushes, underneath the old oak tree. Moments later, holding something in her hands, she continued down the path to the cliff, where the south wind was busy playing with the loose leaves, giving them one last breath of life, swirling them up in the air, creating small vortex of organic matter.
The sunset in the distance was indicating end of yet another beautiful autumn day. The copper colour prevailed over the horizon, giving mystical glow to the objects around.
– What is it about sunsets that makes me sad and happy in the same time? – Thought the woman while untangling the strings of the kite.
Without any hesitation she stood right on the edge of the cliff. Her long, heavy, flowery skirt covering her shoes was lightly dragging it’s weight on the ground, swiping leaves as she moved swiftly.
Her arms were lifted up in the air. Her hands were strongly and skilfully holding the strings to control the flight path of the kite. She was edging closer and closer until she was able to see the void, the thin line between the water and the rocks. The water was splashing against the rocks dispersing its droplets over them like a mist, methodically killing their thirst and curiosity. She looked down for a second, and saw her husband’s body lying over the rocks, his cheeks were still blushed, his lips stretched into a soft smile, his face radiating happiness and contentment. This is how she remembers him, and how he really was; full of life, optimistic, creative and loving person.
Every evening she was coming at this very spot to fly the kite in a memory of her husbands life. She knew that by adding motion, she will somehow make her husbands death more bearable. Weird circumstances on that tragic day contributed to her confusion and left her with questions that will never be answered.
She might have had intention to come every sunset to find new clues, any proof, or something, that might have happened many years ago, something that killed her husband’s passion for life. By flying the kite, she kept her husband alive. His passion never died, his soul remained present in that fine line between life and death. His heart was still attached to the kite and the kite itself was his own breath.
Some people, dear to us are no longer with us, they have departed this material world in search for the essence of more meaningful and fullfiling life. But the truth is they are still present and they still live through the hearts and souls of their loved ones.
Let’s remember the souls of the loved ones, who are responsible for our own existence, responsible for who we are today, our identity, our actions and our achievements. Let just take some time to remember them all, let us pray for their souls wherever they might be at this current moment. Let us express our sincere gratitude and let us send a message of love, reminding them of our promise to keep their candle burning as long as we are able to keep ours alive….M