The area surrounding the stone is familiar to me—relaxed farm land. The rolling hills, quiet cows, and the soft breeze remind me of home and where I want to be. A car passes and I hear the crunch of the gravel—I think of my brother returning home from school. Dust remains in the air long after the car has left. The flowers that line the fence remind me of our little garden. The grass is soft and I am tempted to lie down and read. The trees sway in the breeze and my breathing becomes slow—I am at peace.
Looking at the stone, I wonder. I wonder what memories the area has for him. Did the flowers remind him of his garden? Did the grass invite him to lie down and read? I feel at home in this place that isn’t my home, but is the home of the stone and the man the stone represents.
No comments:
Post a Comment