Sitting at the far end of the concrete wall, with my legs dangling off the edge, I’m staring ahead intently towards the narrow valley. It extends forward nearly endlessly, suddenly transforming into the wide hills that surround me. In reality, I’m not staring at the plants, trees, or the valley, or even the hills. In this moment, I pay no attention to anything of physical form; the wall I’m resting on provides the perfect two feet of hard space necessary to escape from the tangible world: to dream. In my head I once again debate leaping forward into the valley below, perhaps taking the form of a bird and flying until I reach paradise, or maybe I’ll become a monkey, grab hold of the branches on my way down, and make my way to the troop where my new furry friends await. But I can’t fly, and there are no monkeys here.
There is always more to think about. This particular session has lasted well over half an hour, and I’ve physically felt every passing minute, a very real, constant wrenching in my gut. Not pain, not pleasure, the feeling is just there, always. Time happens to be among the few living things which refuses to forget about me, and I appreciate her for this, while secretly acknowledging the lethality of her proximity.
As I’m thinking of all the moments I’ve spent with Time, suddenly there is an abundance of rustling noises coming from behind me. The silence has been broken by this disturbance, and I turn my head back. in the direction of the scattered trees at my rear, attempting to catch glimpse of an animal. Perhaps a squirrel or a bird; the caliber of the noise was not large. I survey the area, and sure enough, standing there among a cluster of saplings is a tiny brown dog, almost entirely camouflaged by merit of the color of its fur and the abundance of dead leaves. It’s clearly staring in my direction, but its body does not project a reaction of fight, or even flight, although it should be clear to any animal as tiny as this one that I could be a formidable adversary. Surprisingly, it begins to walk closer towards the wall; I analyze its movements carefully. Its confidence is unmistakable, but its curiosity, obvious. With my day dream broken, and my own wonder of the creature growing, I turn around completely, and while gripping the wall tightly, lower myself enough to kick off and land a couple of feet away from it.
I close in on it slowly, and can appreciate that its delicate little frame and small but bulgy eyes give it an amusing look. With all that call this forest, hills, and valley home, one can only wonder how such a miniscule animal manages to survive here, much less keep a bold attitude. Perhaps it’s been fed by someone or something else, kept in life support until recently. Here it is now in front of me, certainly looking for help. After staring at each other for some time, I decide it is healthy and friendly enough to approve reaching down and picking it up, so I place it into my arms to examine it closer. It’s a he. The little thing is more muscular than expected, though that isn’t saying much given its bony appearance. He seems considerate enough with my presence, and has not made a single noise beyond its prior rustling of leaves. Perhaps we’ll grow to understand each other after all, despite the sudden acquaintance. I decide to name the dog Woody, a tribute to his appearance and uncanny similarity to that of the wooden saplings next to which I first spotted him.
So I grab Woody in a tight, safe hold, turn around, and make my way to the far edge of the concrete wall. I reach the narrow steps I had long grown accustomed to avoiding, climb them carefully until I’m at the top, and settle down at my favorite section. I get comfortable and stare at the valley, just as before, only now with some company. The dog seemingly appreciates this enough, and he becoming visibly sleepy, blinking slowly and lowering his head. It’s interesting how light seems to cause his eyes to twinkle as they close; it looks as if small watery tears form after every blink.
The atmosphere has clearly changed as it is evening now, and the sun is beginning to set among the valley, beyond the hills. I feel as if Time would be proud, but I can’t say for sure, because as I’m staring into the mesmerizing colors of the sky, I notice she is absent from this moment. The view in front of me is beautiful, and I can’t deny that it is infinitely much more so in the presence of a new companion.