She
shifted the heavy pack, set her feet firmly, then reached for the
outcropping and pulled herself from tree-line shadows into the dusky
pink sunshine splashing across this promising plateau so high in
the sky. Holding tight, she slipped the pack from her back, then
slung it onto the flats, following that with one weary leg before
executing a perfect barrel roll to lie panting atop the rocky windswept
crag bordering the reflective surface of a silvery tarn.
She
gazed across the brief respite of water, beyond a challenging series
of jagged ridgelines, across the rending valley that separated her
from jutting domed mountains, their shiny pale scalps fringed in
whorls of resolute green.
Behind
her in the distance a lone cable car crawled from its burrow lodge,
then spider-climbed its sagging filament, swaying from pole to pole
as it worked its way methodically up the shallower slopes off to
the side. Soon her people would step out and hurry this way, just
as the cold would follow, deepening snow inviting skiers to thrill
in rushing pell-mell back to where they'd started.
But
for now, if only briefly, this moment belonged to the Lady and her
Light.
She
quickly opened her pack, then donned the silly tasseled cap and
stately rental robe, accessorizing those with a mien of determination
and confidence; but she hesitated, sensing the importance of lingering
for a time on this plateau. Drawn toward the liquid future of the
pool, she found herself kneeling upon the shore, wondering how far
she'd come, wishing she might glimpse whatever lay ahead. Her breath
fired the surface with sunshine sparkles swirling a nimbus around
her face, so she touched the water, spreading ripples that transformed
the visage looking back into all the Ladies of Light who had paused
here before her.
Her
skin glowed with a knowledge all its own, its history generations
skipping from one continent to the next. She watched in wonder as
her hair began to grow long and straighten, shifting through the
spectrum from silver to blond to brunette, then curling softly and
reflecting glimmers of chestnut and orange, now curling even tighter,
ebony for a moment before sprinkling again with tresses of silver
and blond even as it insisted on remembering. So many ladies seemed
to be watching her, women she would never know, yet it seemed she
could recognize every one.
And
that's when the youth in her eyes discovered the old woman waiting
inside, that notion of a little girl hoping someday the two would
meet.
"We're
so proud of you!" called the first person to reach her, but she
resisted any temptation to look back so soon.
"Your
mother sure wanted to be here," added another, the crowd gathering
round, "but I'm afraid it's taken a turn for the worst."
She
stood and gazed directly into the wisp-shrouded disk of revealing
sun, blinded just briefly. Then in its brilliance she began to see
so many paintings poised to dance from her brush, scenes played
out in the stories of summits unclimbed; and she listened for the
songs she might someday compose, their voices those she would feed
and house and educate and support. And there rising from those peaks
towered the monuments she would build, places she yearned to transform,
the lives she ached to touch.
"Time
to move on," someone said. "You'll have your things out by tomorrow?"
She
couldn't help but listen, but it hurt to know that some who'd spoken
might never be heard again. Tears welled in her eyes, and she trembled
with grief for those denied their time beyond this plateau, saddened
to consider how many more must want to venture on but, for too many
reasons, never would.
"I
can't deal with this now," the young man insisted, his voice a rising
crescendo of expectation. "You gotta be the one takes care of it."
"It's
too far gone," called another, "-not worth following good money
with bad."
"We'll
try to control it with medication, but you'll have to curtail . . ."
"Go
with him; it's the only way you can get out . . ."
"If
you're my friend, you'll do what it takes . . ."
"Soon
he'll be needing round-the-clock care, but you can't just let some
stranger . . ."
The
sun touched a mountaintop, then slipped silently into the past as
darkening mist skulked across the plateau. Voices clamored their
urgency, so she looked into the water one last time and saw the
brightest light of all, the spark of potential and hope she carried
deep inside, her face now surrounded by all the other ladies reminding
her to keep it safe and bright.
She
would use this light someday to paint or tell stories or compose
songs, maybe to change the world, or simply to help one or two;
but even if the indifference of circumstance and fate stretched
her beyond all limits, trapping her there where no one ever escapes,
she would carry the light wherever she may dwell.
And
even if the indifference of circumstance and fate conspired to cut
her life short, she would carry it into those very last moments,
always knowing who she'd been, who she would always be.
So
as the people led her back toward obligations and responsibilities,
toward brief delays that can stretch into eternity, toward lurking
dangers that spare some and too often claim the best, toward this
time right now that would belong only to her, she held her head
high to bathe our world in the rainbow hues of a wonderful life.
And
whatever future lay beyond this plateau, no matter the path she
might choose to share or which dreams she might keep to herself,
the Lady would always carry her Light, nurturing it, basking in
its warmth, and remembering to share it with those she loves.
In
memory of our sisters, Darlene Laverne and Tanya Darlene.
* * END * *
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