I—or rather, all of us—finished school yesterday. I received my report too, "she has improved greatly in the exams," and I'm quite satisfied with that.

We've started to pack our suitcases and what-nots already and five days from now we will begin our long journey. But today we find ourselves in the middle of having visitors, when that's the last thing we—or at least I—want. To me, I can hear sympathy in every word, see it in every expression and gesture, and I don't want that. I've had enough of that already.

Sympathy that is shown and even that which is not really expressed only makes things worse for me, and I should think that other people would think so too, if they have to face it. One would rather sink into the ground and join the dead.

Anyway, we have visitors, and I can't change that. A whole family. The mother used to be Mommy's childhood friend—my real mother, that is—I don't remember her too well. When they both got married and all of that, they still saw each other now and then, family and all. Dad continued with the contact even after Mommy's cancer took her. But none of my parents are here any longer, so why do they have to come?

The talk goes around the table as we have tea—juice for the children, except Miriam—in the living room. I mean, they are talking, not I, nor one of the two boys, Len, who is my age, the other one being about two years older, whom Miriam has all eyes for, trying to recapture his attention. Last time they met was New Year's Eve. No, that's not true. It was at the funeral. But that doesn't really count.

While I listen absent-mindedly, I notice Len glancing in my direction every once in a while, and I lower my head, letting the fringe hide my face from him. When us 'children' are at last excused, I quickly disappear into the back garden, climb over the fence to my back garden where I find my favourite little tree to sit under and daydream in peace. My thoughts 'dance away with a southern wind' but towards the West, across the Atlantic where, somewhere, Ranch Montaña is—my future home. I fantasize about how ranch looks, how it's located, with its sheds, barns, garage maybe, and stables somewhere nearby, with lots of corrals full of cattle and horses. Do they have other animals there too? I hope so 'cause I'm an animal friend.

It doesn't take me long to reach my peak of meditation, staring into a formerly well-trimmed round bush, but I don't see it because my eyes are focused far beyond it. I'm far away from here, in a forest, deep in the Loneliness of Nature, which I love: for Michelle is my name, and Solitaire's my game.

I'm in a glade, sitting in the rich grass, surrounded by trees towering sky high. I hear the Whisper of Mother Nature, who finds me in no time, and tells me all her little secrets. Sometimes she's more like a friend than a 'mother' to me. She touches me lightly with delicate fingers on my arms, my cheeks, in gestures seemingly to emphasize her words. I listen quietly. Seldom has anyone spoken to me like that, so softly and inspiring, making me feel a tranquility surround and fill me, that nothing and no one can disturb.

Suddenly I notice with a minor shock, that I'm not alone. Len is sitting on a stone nearby, watching me.

***

...PART SIX next! 

Cover image courtesy of @ldwrite . Thanks!
© 1983/2016 by kemorgan65