Inclination

Ambitious Falls, Additonal Routines, Accidental Greetings

The surface of the moon is different than you expected it to be underneath the thin soles of your shoes. For some reason as you stood in the darkness of night in empty fields and looked towards the sky, you always imagined it to feel like the emerald, dry floral foam bricks that your mother poked fake plants into when you were a child, but rather the chartreuse olivine rock more accurately resembles basalt under your feet.

Your gaze lifts to the landscape of dull, slate gray hills and volcanoes constructed from a forgotten chunk of earth's metamorphic rock. Blasted away from the planet billions of years ago but still remaining close, not quite ready to fully detach from its home. Tears collect inside of your chest at the metaphor and as you bend down to collect a piece of lunar stone, the moon's surface violently cracks and opens up into an enormous canyon and you're flailing in slow motion as you drop.

Your body spins in zero gravity and you feel a bit sick with disorientation as your limbs drown in the vast open blackness of outer space. There is no up or down, no left or right, no here or there. At first you're terrified of the feeling of absolute discombobulation but then you abandon your fear and allow your body to tranquillize and as you do so, the tumbling ceases. Your position rights itself and when you look up, you realize you're attached to a carmine red parachute.

You sigh and relax, taking in the feeling of a slow fall, the sight of the earth with its swirling clouds and endless oceans drawing nearer with each passing second. There is no sound, as if it's been sucked out of the galaxy through a straw until it completely dissipated but you can feel your heart beating and imagine what it probably sounds like inside of your ribcage; a muffled drum comprised of blood and love ticking in rapid twos with a pause in between each set.

The first dip of your toes through the layer of fluffy, cumulus clouds of earth's atmosphere makes you feel anxious and your stomach light, like a plane bouncing through turbulence then landing back home after you've been on vacation for days or weeks. The clouds clear and the sun warms your face, the sky is the most brilliant shade of cool turquoise that you've ever seen.

You're surprised by how easily your feet land in a thick patch of grass just at the threshold of a brilliant black and white thicket of trees, your parachute falling behind you and detaching as you begin running, pushing thistle and thorny branches from your path. They cut your skin but it doesn't hurt; blood drips from your forearms and wrists, staining  your sundress and the forest floor below you. The canopy of the tall, paper white birch trees shades the sun except for the irregular blips of neon lemon light coloring your skin every so often. Rabbits scatter as you run past, their cotton white tails the last thing you see before they leap and disappear into their burrows.

The forest opens up into a sub-alpine meadow with tall, jutting mountains in the distance that look like pointed scoops of vanilla ice cream on the horizon. You can hear someone call your name and you spin in a circle but have difficulty finding the source. Your name echoes through the tall grass and bounces off the mountains and you close your eyes to draw in a full breath and concentrate on the restoring harmony.

When you open them again, Harry is standing across the field of echinacea, sea holly, bee balm and purple moor grass with his arms outstretched towards you, an inviting and promising smile pulling at each corner of his mouth. He gestures for you to run to him before replacing his hands back in the amiable gesture of trust.

You glance down at your wrists and hands where they were once bleeding and torn apart by thorns, but are relieved to see that they've completely healed. You take off running through the flowers and grasses, Harry's smile growing wider with each footstep you make in his direction.

When you're merely a foot away, you bend your knees and jump and he catches you easily, his comforting arms holding you impossibly tight against his body as he spins you in cheerful circles. He smells clean and soft, he feels like nostalgia and home, he looks like heaven on earth.