There was something about this place that always made me think of home. It was a small field hidden in the far end of the city. Grasses here were bright green and I loved it, knowing that I didn’t need to be an environmentalist to be passionate about nature. On getting there I would normally utter a thank you, to the people who have always kept the place clean and the grass mowed.
The trees were planted five feet apart, and it gave the field shelter just like a house would do during the rain. The air was filled with that unique sweet smell of pineapples, but from a compound close by. The trees grew branches curved like seats and it felt like they were saying ‘Don’t just stand there, have a seat’. Just like a ‘ long Time no see’ kind of friend, the wind would persuade the leaves and it would rustle in excitement as the wind itself rush to my sides, caressing my skin, and leaving me cooler than any air conditioning would do.
I always had my blanket handy so I spread it on grass, kicking my shoes off and letting the naked soles of my feet touch the grass, it felt like the touch from a baby’s finger. Sitting cross legged I would stare into the sky wondering why the weather here was not indecisive as the one in the city. Like one in a yoga class, I sat motion less for a few minutes, basking In that rare moment of peace and tranquility inside and out. Peace as easy as it sounds does not come by easily. The beautiful thing about being introverted is the ability to love one’s company. Being alone but not lonely.
My bag always had a headset and a novel for moments like this. Books are indeed magical. You know that moment you buy something nice for yourself and wait for perfect timing, that was how I felt when ever I had a novel to read. A novel is like a witch’s broom, With it I could go wherever I wanted . Delving into my novel like a diver, my face would flicker from one emotion to the other in between pages, while sipping on a water melon and pineapple smoothie with a meat pie, my favorite snack. Do you know the best part of reading a novel? It is that moment you get overwhelmed with how real the words feel, and your brain imagines what you are reading, putting in place the x before the y and atimes the situations in that novel are so relatable to you. Just as you reach your wordgasm, you drop the book, too happy to read further . Just there smiling to your self. When I tire my neck and back ,I drop my novel and listen to music.
To me listening music an can be described as that momentary highness you get from sniffing marijuana. It lets you shut out everything, the only thing remaining is just you and words from the headset filtering into your ears. No wonder we think we sound like a Celine Dion when we sing along with our headset, only to sound like a frog upon removing it. The music coming from headset makes me feel safe and sane. In between saying a few hellos to people who love solitude like me, I realize that nothing can be as healing as this moment. I always saw things from a way different perspective here and that has helped me make certain decisions in life.
When it’s evening say around 4:30pm,I roll my blanket and leave this wonderful place but with fond memories. Before heading home I always make a detour to the mall. Deep down my solitude loving heart, there is a tiny part of me that comes to life on seeing the so many lights and people in a mall. The air conditioning in the mall makes me feel cool, like the first compartment of a refrigerator, while walking to an ice cream shop. Fleetingly I enjoy the soft music coming from the sound system of the different shops. The different decor and items on display made every thing appealing to my senses, which at intervals I would stop to buy some but only with my eyes.
Like having a taste of fire and ice, I balance out all I have seen, from the quiet almost empty ambiance at the field to the many number of people trooping in and out of the mall. Getting my strawberry ice cream, I go home wearing a big smile, walking away with a bucket full of peace and a feeling of nostalgia that could last me in my troubled times.
Arueze Chisom Precious, a passionate writer can be reached through email@example.com