Where The Earth Touches The Sky

A friend of mine once told me that walking would be good for me. I recall that at the time I considered the possibility that she just wanted a companion as she went for one of her daily strolls, but she persisted in her attempts to persuade me.

She said the walk would be good for my physical, and yes, mental health. There was no denying that I needed improvement in both of those areas of my life. I rarely took her advice, if for no other reason than I loved to be argumentative and obstinate. I guess I took some measure of pleasure in disagreeing with her, but she was so very persistent.

So, when her persistence began to wane, and only then and after I was sure the idea of going for a walk would appear to be mine, did there come a day when I asked if she wanted to go for a walk. I later had to admit, but only to myself, that I felt better after that first walk. I continued to walk with her until there came a day when I walked alone, just as I do most days now.

There had been nothing special or unique about that recent day. I have now come to think that the morning and afternoon had been much the same as any of those before. I suppose the later than normal walk I was accustomed to began at a later hour but, for the life of me, I can’t now remember why that was.

I walked along the same old unmarked but familiar path I had used on so many other occasions. The scenery was the same, but I had become such a creature of habit that I dared not change my route. I guess I felt as though “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Oh, I always saw something new, or at least something I hadn’t noticed before. I suppose that and the warmth of the days fading into evenings and the grass-covered fields were motives enough to entice me into yet another walk. But, that day I felt compelled to stop and sit on the cool grass as the day ended.

I sat quietly on the downslope of that grassy patch of ground with legs folded and my knees pressed against my chest. There was not a sound and just the slightest breath of wind fell on my face before moving across the field in the distance.

I looked out and there, just above the tree-covered hills and where the sun had been only a short time before, was the last hint of the day. The early evening had come, and I had no desire to leave my comfortable resting place any time soon.

A feeling fell upon me. It was as if all my worldly concerns, all my troubles, had left my thoughts. I sat there with the clearest of mind and it was as if I could see what I had not been able to see before. It was a vision of things that were truly important in life; those things that made itself worth living.

It’s hard to explain either in words or writing but the world around me became so very clear. I could hear the birds moving about in the distant tree. The sound of the breeze as it moved among the branches was so clear and easily discernible.

The water in the nearby creek made a distinct sound as it moved, leaving the pond on its way to the river. A group of cows in the pasture not far away didn’t utter a sound but the movement of their hooves as the animals walked through the tall grass was as clear as any sound, I had ever heard before.

I sat with my head tilted back and watched as the night sky darkened. The moon was in an early phase and little light was emitted but the beauty and wonder of that sky were surely the thousands of bright and wondrous points of light, the stars.

I can’t tell you how long I sat there on that slope as time didn’t seem to matter. The stars slowly moved, going I knew not where, and I had a wish that I could go with them. Maybe it was the chill brought on by the evening air or maybe it was just time, but I raised myself from the slope and headed for home.

The walk home wasn’t a long one. In the past and as I finished that day’s walk, I thought little of the experience. Those previous excursions didn’t have any more meaning than just the end of a stroll, some much-needed exercise. But this walk to my house seemed to me to be the end of something I might never again experience, a feeling I will only remember and try time and again to repeat.

As I walked along, the starlight from those beautiful cosmic lanterns washed across my face and illuminated the path before me. Those wondrous luminary spots sprinkled across the sky were guiding my way and brightening my face.

Once inside my home, I sat for some time wondering why this walk had been so very different from the others. The answer I came up with was, well, there was no definitive answer, nothing that could be put into words, script or even into thoughts.

It was then that a sobering question came into my mind. As I sat there on that grassy down-slope and stared at the softly twinkling stars, I could only think about how beautiful and magnificent the image was. Then I wondered, if those illuminations were looking back at me, what image did they see?

I have spent many an early evening looking for that special place, that place where the earth touches the sky. I have searched for that downward slope of grass where everything is so peaceful, but I can’t find it. I know approximately where it is, and I recall the time of day, the time when the sun surrenders its place in the sky to the moon and the stars. However, there was something so very special about that night’s place, that night and those stars, something so special I fear I may never again relive that special moment in my life.

Much like the memory of what I had for breakfast, I fear that those solemn end-of-day moments are lost, but I will continue to search for that place when the summer is once again in the trees.

Stan Fine is a retired police officer and Verizon Security Department investigator who, after retiring in 2006, moved from Tampa, Fla., to Noel. Stan’s connection to Noel can be traced back to his grandparents who lived most of their lives there. Stan began writing after the passing of his wife Robin in 2013. Opinions expressed are those of the author.