by Jolanda Otto
“Am I warm enough?”, asks the sun, shining through the upcoming darkness of nightfall. Small glimpses of light shimmer like honey pearls, nurturing the air with peace and perseverance.
“Am I wet enough?”, asks the rain, filling the lake. The raindrops glimmer in the last light of sun that is about to end the day, dancing with the cradling waves.
“Am I strong enough?”, asks the wind, caressing the water surface of the lake, humming with the sound of the waves. With a smile, the wind runs up the old almond tree, standing tall side by side with the lake, and makes the blossoms chuckle and sail down, touching the water gently, almost like a good night kiss.
“Am I balancing you well enough?”, asks the cloud, mutely motioning the play of rain and sun. The wind stretches out for a hopeful hug, calmly breathing into the soft shape of the cloud.
On the bench beneath the almond tree sits a figure, silently folding a white sheet of paper into a tiny boat. The fingers of the figure move knowingly, guided by a heavy heart, full of well-worn paths and wisdom. The sun sends a weak but warm glow to shine upon the figure’s face, exposing the deep lines time has formed in the dry, pale skin of an old man. As the man lifts his chin, bright smiling eyes gleam back at the sun. Curiously, the wind starts playing with the old man’s braided beard, white like snow and strong like ties that bind forever, contrasting with his bold head. With laughter deep as winter, the old man continues his work.
“I am old and blessed with a long life, but the tree is much older than me and you are the oldest of us all. The lifetime of sun and rain, clouds and wind is endless and enduring through eternity. Still, doubt is your master. Humankind is weary and weak, prone to fraud and failure, doubting anything and anyone. It is themselves they doubt the most. But you rule life on this earth. You can nurture and torture, stand tall and stand by, still doubt rules you. Why is that? Does doubt persist through tales and times, through life and death?”, asks the old man, lifting his eyes from the paper boat and smiling sadly at the beautiful sunset that colours the clouds, sinking into the sound of the lake. Almond blossoms covered with small raindrops dance with the wind on the clear water surface.
Unable to answer the wise man, the sun and the rain, the cloud and the wind suddenly become aware of the beauty they created in the dimming life of day. Breathing labouredly, the old man gets up from the bench and leans on his walking stick, appearing foreignly fragile, ready to carry home his heart. Carefully, he puts the boat on the water surface, subtly poking it with his forefinger.
“I doubt you will let it sink.”, he says with a winking eye and turns away.
© Jolanda Otto 2024-10-03