If Ever There was a Door

 

I stopped at the end of the trail.  The contrast between the forest around me and the field beyond me was stark to say the least.  It was like a border.  Perhaps I've read too many fantasy novels, but all I could imagine was that if I stepped over the abandoned rubble with my dog and my friend we would be transported to another realm.  

I wish I could say I was writing this slice on the other side of a grand adventure, but that is not the case.  However, I do not want to disparage the lovely patch of grass my friend, my dog, and I came upon during our walk this past Sunday.  The weather was warm, the skies were a shade of blue that can never be properly captured on film much less written word, and this field was tucked at the end of a small hiking trail near a river-side boat launch.

My friend and I had come prepared to draw and write in our notebooks, but instead we spread our blankets out among a field of vibrant grass and clover.  Perhaps it wasn't the fantastical world of elves and fairies, but it was for a moment a world separate from the weight of responsibility and expectation.  There's magic in that alone. 

And certainly that's the best way I can describe the feeling of stretching out and lying down in a secret field. I don't know if I've sprawled out in the grass like that since I was a child.  The sun shining bright -- so bright, that when you open your eyes again all of the colors are off -- and the sky stretching above me as though reflecting all of the possibilities that exist in this world.  My friend, my dog, and I all took a moment to enjoy this parallel world, but all too soon we had to leave.

I now have a better understanding for those stories where mortals leave this plane and elect to stay in fairy world forever.