A woman sat at a park bench, pencil in hand, and sketch book on lap. She was drawing the pond, and wondering what would make make the picture special. As she stared at the scene, a stone skipped along the surface, ending with a good-sized splash, and she knew that would be it.
Nancy set out drawing the ripples and splashes over her pencil pond. As she did, her mind wandered, thinking about the stone. It probably fell to the bottom of the pond, raising the total water level an immeasurable height. It would probably never to be touched by human hands again. She was probably present for the last hurrah of that stone, and may have been the only person who really noticed it.
Then she wondered why she cared. The stone didn't care. Humans are just another animal. Why does it matter what a human's last interaction with that stone was? That stone is going to have plenty more interactions. Just because humans aren't involved in them doesn't make them less significant.
Nancy's hand stopped moving. Her line of thoughts had paralyzed her body. She felt so small. More insignificant than that stone. What was she doing? Who even cared? Why bother drawing the pond?
Nancy packed her things up and walked back to her apartment. She had no idea what made her start feeling so depressed, but she knew staying out there wouldn't help. Hopefully, a cup of tea, a shower, and a nap would bring her out of the funk. It usually did. With any luck, this would be the same.
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Our moments must be made significant by us alone. "We are all made of starstuff." The sheer amazement that can come from reflecting upon this idea always brings me out of the kind of 'funk' portrayed by your character. Lovely piece. I thoroughly enjoy reading your work.
ReplyDelete*By us alone and those we choose to keep in our lives.
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