Let Me Show You Something


POST CARDS FROM THE MUSE

Let Me Show You Something

I have something to show you. Come closer, a little closer. Good Now get comfortable. It may sound strange, but you have to close your eyes to see this. Ready? All right, let’s begin.

In order for you to see the things I want you to see and hear the sounds I want you to hear, I am going to draw and paint with my words. Here goes. I’ll use lots of colors and sounds. Do you feel the wind on your face? Can you smell the new air yet? Yes, that’s it. Do you hear the sounds I hear? Yes, yes, that’s it. Okay, open your eyes.

You are now in this world I have created. I meant for this particular world to be beautiful and full of color and scents and sounds. I believe there are some birds in that tree—bright reds and blues in the branches that vibrate with green. And the color of the dirt, have you ever seen it so black? It could almost be velvet. And look at the sun—you see, in my world you can look directly at the sun and never suffer—and how beautiful it is.

And the smells! Did you know the green could smell so green? And up there are some wild flowers growing all over the hillside with the sweetest perfume in this world.

Can you hear the birds sing while the children play in the park? What? You overlooked the park? Well come with me and I’ll show you. It’s up the hill, just a ways. The children are playing on the swings and the slide and the merry-go-round. They’re smiling and laughing; oh, they have such musical laughter! They all get along and run and play together. The jungle-gym over in that corner is covered with kids climbing, hanging by their knees, and just sitting soaking up the sun.

Did you notice their parents and nannies? I think we’ll call them the “watchers.” The mothers and some dads, some nannies, some teenagers doing their homework are all over to the side of the park next to the sandbox. They visit and talk, each one lovingly mentioning the name of their child over and over again.

Do you like the world I have made here? This is why I write.

Nandy Ekle