Golden Isla

By: Cassandra Green

Isla looked up and out over the vast yellow field before her. There was a visible breeze. In waves it tousled the tops of the yellow stalks of wheat, resonating a natural white noise. She closed her eyes and felt the cool tingle in her ears, her dark auburn hair tangling in the wind.

She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Golden eyes locked in with the vast azure sky. Like two oceans of color, creations colliding. Gold dancing in deep waters. Glassy eyes that mirrored the display of wispy clouds. Fresh air and blue skies spoke out like an expression of their own, calling this a new day.

Here, she felt the endless possibility of more as the sky went on forever. It told a story about enduring, as if to lift her up and say, “look, time and distance aren’t so bad.” It exemplified both freedom and journey at their finest.

In these fields, she felt small and human. Endless dirt paths gave her permission to hide and at the same time encouraged her next step. She felt a nudge to try again and get back up; to take her time and walk for days and possibly years. 

Isla spun around. Bare feet and weeds stirring up earth. She reached her arms up into the sky, thankful for the moment, for the story that went on. Her life wasn’t over. Her journey was right in the middle of a story that went on. A story that intertwined time and space; minutes that could stretch into eternity.

Her decisions didn’t define or isolate her, they simply brought her to this open space where there wasn’t even a fork in the road. It was just a journey, a walk, and an invitation to take another step. A language that said she could dream even when covered in nature and dirt. She could take another step and emulate the pattern of the infinite skies and boundless fields before her. She would rise like an apprentice to the saffron sun.