Mending Shades

                I view through large, open windows the hectic world continuing on its diligent course. In here, this place in which I rest and mindfully observe, it is quiet.  Empty tables where people should reside sit lonely around me. The smell of cooked meat and fresh cut vegetables fills my nostrils as I breathe in deeply. The walls hold few paintings and are a hideous orange. The carpet shows areas well-traveled and where people lost their manners and left pieces of lettuce to rot upon the floor. My plum scarf heats my sorrowed heart as a breeze drifts through the bell singing door. Slowly, this place begins to transform.

The walls paint mountains and trees onto themselves, and oddly, I can smell their sweet scent. Puzzles unfinished make up the tiles beneath me, creating unexplainable images. The tables stay empty, longing for company. Heart shaped flowers spring delicately from each table top but droop when I look away, as if I have not given them enough mind or attention; the open windows distract me. I draw the shades, casting shadows into this visionary room while flickers of light break through.

A gentle tune of flutes plays lightly in the background. I can hear my heart beat half-heartedly in my chest and faint sounds of the happenings outside. A bird flies by with a destination in mind. Many cars speed and pass each other, hoping to cut minutes from their travel. Though, I am here, as if in another world where time is not defined but rather left outside. Only the measure of breaths I take guide me in understanding the world exterior to me.

These pieces scattered about, these heavy flowers, I question. Where are the missing pieces? Why do these flowers droop so sadly when I do not contemplate them?  I explore more deeply, letting myself out of my sound grip holding me in the moment; an epiphany begins to arise.

New windows appear on the far wall. I look out them and see myself placed in the middle of that hectic world. I see myself continually pass by my ill-colored heart but embracing my mind close, looking as if I’ll never let go. Puzzle pieces disperse beneath my feet as I hurry forward. I step back from my realization to let it sink in, to better understand how I let myself fall apart. I glance at those flowers again and see a fully healed heart emerge from its center. In my palm, puzzle pieces grow from nothing, but fit my unfinished foundation. I return them to their destined place and place my blooming heart in my hand, pressing it against my chest. It sinks into me, beating beautifully.