Breaking Morning #1

The Lake Decision - 1

Here I am, as day commences to alleviate the night, my greying hair pulled back in a fuchsia scarf. Despite the grip of a hot flash, I’m shivering, hands pressed to my thighs, a teetering, chicken-shanked isolate transfixed like a bug on a pin of the knowledge of what I was about to do. Until today, I’d always been leery of the darkness, of the limitless outside, the wilting chill of day-to-day, of unpredictabilities surrounding me like critical spectators. They’ll be silenced, soon enough. And perhaps the flames of hell will thaw my withered heart.

The sky pales from indigo to rosy mauve then to a shimmer of wet pewter streaked with yellow. Suspended over the plate glass of Gull Lake is a long tongue of dock that juts away from the looming tumble of shadowed break wall. A cloak of condensation dusts the long strips of worn cedar with damp glitter in the glancing shafts of sunrise. Spider webs jeweled with dew shiver with each bump of the scarred wooden rowboat trussed at the bow to a rusted wharf ring. A bleached cocktail-cherry sun crowns through a jagged cleft of the Canadian Shield then breaks free. Arching against the Muskoka hills, the pale trunks of birch trees remind me of the three-day beard I’ll never caress again. 

I ease my stiff neck and turn my eyes to the west, where stands of shadowy conifers mat the cheeks of the rustling forest. Like a desiccated sponge in an uncertain hand, I’m poised to absorb all of these last times, halfway between here and there, not quite sure where or what ‘there’ is anymore. What is certain is my conviction, stoked by recollections that weigh like thick fists on my shoulders.

My bare feet are cold. My flesh trembles beneath layers of old sweat pants, hoodies and t-shirts. ‘Dead weight when wet’, I’d read when I did my research. I scratch my hip where the lace trim on my expensive new panties – bought with hope that someone would want to tear them off, except that no one did – is irritating my flesh. Stop dithering.

Silence muffles my ears like headphones. Nothingness has replaced the mess that last forever winter was me, being left …alone. Not for much longer.

...read on for part 2