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Obrey loves his bicycle. But the truth is, he is addicted to his bicycle. The best time of the day for him is the morning because he rides his beloved cycle to school. The streets are mostly sleepy this time. Less crowded, foggy and he can fly on his ride. His friends don't know that he calls his bicycle with a name. Ben. He calls it Ben. It's a he. And Ben is the best friend among all of his friends. If Obrey is truly honest to himself, he feels that his city is quite mysterious in the morning. Nocturnal people say that all the mysterious things happen at night. Well, Obrey begs to differ. But he doesn't argue on this. Because people look at him in a way that he is a weirdo. Like it is impossible. And also, they give a stare that can mean, "Are you serious? How dare you say that!" But Obrey knows what he knows. It's the morning when the Universe unfolds all the strangest of its mysteries. And one lucky morning, he knows that he was right all the time.
Obrey is riding. But he knows in his chest that he is flying, on his very special Ben-broom! He flies with speed in the foggy, empty streets. One or two people are slowly walking, still drowsy, still half asleep, half awake. Obrey crosses some restaurants and coffee places. The scent of newly made hot drinks enters his nostrils. He inhales a puff of air. He is feeding on the beautiful city morning. The clam, still lake, the steady clouds, the scent of frying sausages, the blooming flowers, the foggy streets, and the chirping birds. Now he is passing the 'wonder park'. Every morning Obrey passes this misty forest, he gets a thrill. He feels like something is happening behind those long oak trees and bushes. Maybe someday he will catch a glimpse of a magical incident. Everyone says that this park is haunted. Decades ago, some strange events happened here and the park is abandoned now. Especially, children are highly warned about this place. They fear that there are monsters in there and always stay away from this creepy forest. But not Obrey. He is having that thrill inside his chest right now. His eyes scan the misty forest, his ride slows in speed. His breath fastens and so does his heartbeat...And suddenly! On the dew moistened grass, a girl is sitting. There are three sparrows on her palms and a few are flying right above her head. She is talking! To them! And it is not difficult to understand that they understand each other. What is even more amazing is that she is making the sound of sparrows. Obrey's mouth opens in awe.
"Chirp-chirp-chirpy-chirp", one of them said.
"Chirpy-chirp-chirpy", the girl replied in sparrow tongue!
Obrey forgot about school and a magical force pulled him nearer. He silently creeps even nearer. He is spellbound, his eyes fixate on this ethereal scene, ears all eager. He comes nearer and a few rabbits hop towards her and tell her something. She instantly changes her tongue and speaks to them too in rabbit language! And now, there is a cat that is speaking to her and she replies to it with "meow" language! Obrey is still hiding behind the big tree. He is so excited that his heart may explode at any moment. He wants to scream and tell everyone about this wonderful encounter. Everyone looked at him with their weird stares. Obrey has a good look at the magical girl. She looks like a fairy. She is wearing a blue dress; flower crown and her ornaments are made of buds and leaves. Her big eyes remind him of the blue fairy from Pinocchio. Obrey leans forward to have a better look and suddenly his bicycle rings.
'Cling!'
The sound breaks the silence of the former sounds. The magical sounds of birds and other creatures, and that fairy's talk. She startles and looks back. Obrey hides behind the tree, hoping she has not seen him. But the birds and other creatures are gone. It's only her. She is standing alone. Her eyes are wider now. Obrey closes his eyes, hoping he is invisible to her too.
"Who is there?", an annoyed voice demands, "Show yourself!"
"I-I am... Obrey", he stutters. "But...But I mean no harm. I can be your friend", he walks forward, comes out from his hiding place. "I believe in magic and fairy..", he finds himself lost for words.
She examines her with her piercing gaze from those big, blue eyes.
"You can trust me. I believe in magic and fairies..."
"I am no fairy", she is still annoyed.
"I mean...I can be a friend..."
"We'll see...", she turns her face away and makes a cup with her hands near her mouth and starts to make a very strange but beautiful sound with her voice. It almost sounds like a song but only it is not. It was more like a rhythmic poem in an anonymous language. After a few seconds, all the creatures come back and surround her. They had a discussion. The "Chirpy-chirp" and "Meow" and all the other languages. Mesmerized Obrey can not take his eyes off of this unworldly, magical scene. He hears nothing but this magical conversation among them. After a while they all fall silent. The fairy turned her face towards Obrey.
"Me and my friends", she takes a pause and scans him again, "Have decided to make you a friend. They told me you were always nice to them, so we trust you", but the way she looks at her tells the opposite and so does her tone.
"Can we shake hand on it then?", he raises his hand.
"No, we do it differently", she embraces Obrey.
Obrey shivers with her touch and the magical scent he smells coming from her body. He stands still. Breathes fast and his eyes are about to explode. A few minutes pass by.
"So, you have a name?", he manages to catch his breathe.
"Serene", she smiles for the first time, ?My name".
"Can I call you Fairy?", he pleads.
"Yes. A name is for the one who calls more than the one who is called."
Suddenly he hears a sound from behind. The city is waking up. He looks behind. There is a car. and some passersby He decides to say goodbye to Fairy. But she is gone already, and her friends. He checks his watch. It's too late. He already has missed the first class. He goes back home.
Fairy and Obrey are best friends now. Obrey is having the best weeks of his life. His life is full of surprises now. The wonders, colours and sounds make his life seems perfect now.
"So, how do you do it?", He asks Fairy one morning, "Talking to them? You said...you are no fairy..So, what, you are just a human?"
"Just a human", she smiles.
"Yeah, how?"
"Well, Obrey. Every 'just a human' can speak to every creature...", she pauses, "But you have to learn to listen first. And.."
"And?"
"And to listen, you have to learn to be silent. To live in the true state of 'Serenity', you have to be the serenity itself."
"The serenity!", Obrey's voice gets a high pitch. "That's you...right?"
She smiles. She sighs. And she turns away.
"Will you teach me how to be serenity, Serenity?"
"Yes. Close your eyes.", she places a hand on the center of his chest. "See, I say, everything you ever need to be already is present here. Right here", she presses his chest with her palm. Suddenly Obrey sees green colors playing in front of his eyes. Though his eyes are closed now. He starts to hear. To listen. Speaking. Everything is speaking to him. The butterfly. The ant. The bird. The cat. The grass! The TREE! It gets too loud and chaotic in his head. His face gets twisted. He is disturbed. She takes her hand away from his chest. The sounds stop. Everything seems too silent. The silence feels too loud.
"NO! Too empty. I want to listen."
"Shh", she places a finger on her lips. "Not like this, Obrey. You have to adjust. It will disturb your soul. Listening too much is not good. You need to find the balance. I will show you. Tomorrow."
Obrey opens his mouth to say something but she stops him.
"Patience. That's the first step towards 'Balance', Obrey."
The next morning Serenity tells him how to be in the state of serenity. He always believed in magic anyway. Without knowing if it is real or not. Now he knows that magic is real. The whole world exists inside his heart. Right at the center of his chest. Every day is magical to Obrey now.
Sunlight. It greets us.
Slowly emerging from the earth, we shake our slumber. It's been so long since we last saw light. The last thing we remember was being somewhere cold, damp, but kept us safe, allowing us to prepare for the eventual bloom.
My sisters and I look all around. Violet, Daffodil, and Tulip, all are present. Grass says hello to us as we wake up to a new world outside. The birds tell us of the strange behaviors humans have undergone since we went to sleep. I thought things would've been normal by now, but maybe I was wrong to assume such things. We always hear nature tell us about how the world's changed, but how can we change it? We're just plants that beautify the world. We don't want to change.
I feel the sun opening me. My delicate petals are ready to be tickled by the wind, to be kissed by Flora for returning vibrantly again. Seeing all of the colors around me brings a sense of normality. Indigo, gold, apricot are all around us. Too many colors for my senses to describe, but it's like a painter's dream canvas or the remnants of a rainbow exploding from a defective pot of gold.
Maybe it's just me though.
Clementine. That's my name according to a little girl who's walking by. It's strange to see humans wearing cloth on their faces and keeping themselves apart. That's not the memory I usually have of people coming by this time last year. People are usually out and about, celebrating the warm weather and having fun but I'm not complaining about the lack of people for it's a wonder I'm still around as so many of my sisters have been plucked, their petals shredded or eaten and thrown down when their lives were cut short.
Others are put into people's hair or placed onto tables for centerpieces of beauty. People don't realize that flowers have feelings too. Our withering and decay is a sign of our grief of being ripped from the bosom of the Earth that made us. How would you feel being taken away from the source of life that provided you the chance to live in the first place?
Yet, no one thinks about that when they look at us. People think we're bountiful and there's an endless supply and while that's true, they never stop to think that no two flowers are the same. There can be the same two roses or irises or lilies, but each one of us is different in our own peculiar way. Like I'm Clementine. Another one of us could be called Stevie or Juliet or Virginia or whatever name comes to mind. There are male companions as well, but we don't talk about those.
Seems strange that my thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps that's why I'm best as a flower for I can't stay focused on anything for a particular amount of time. I'm just supposed to look pretty and blow alongside the wind. I wonder why that is. There's so much about me that I don't know and honestly, I may never know.
Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like as a different flower. I've been the same form for countless eons, always morphing into the same form when I've reemerged every year. I know some of my companions have gotten to change either through accident or intentional plantings. One may have a new color palette or a new design or new height or whatever happens to befall them. Sometimes it works out better, but in others, it's worse. It's funny how nature controls us and can change us at its whim, without any warning or indication of what's ahead.
Now I feel myself fully stretch out and open. The morning sun's so warm and secure. I feel safe, as though the sun's a parent I never knew about until now. Mr. Sun. Papa Sun. There are countless names I can use to describe him. He could be my father for if I come from the earth then she's my mother. The only way I could come forth is if the sun helped the earth bring me forth into bloom. They provide us with the nutrients needed to grow and the love for us to live. Without their love, we'd be like the poor dandelions, worthless weeds that choke the earth in hatred instead of loving it for giving us the chance we need to grow.
It's such a beautiful season. It's my favorite season because it's the season where it's all light and colorful. One's too hot, one's too cold, and the final one kills us all. The trees help us with the seasons as many of them shelter us, protecting us as guardians when our parents fail to do so. It makes me happy to see the trees in bloom too, coated with little blossoms that resemble us for a brief moment. Dogwood, Cherry, Peach. All of them are little flowers dangling up above us, looking down and wondering why we're the lucky ones before either blowing away or morphing into leaves, protecting us when it's too hot and falling when we retreat underground, protecting us with enough warmth to make it to the next season.
I imagine myself looking out over the cliff. I see Yosemite nearby. Yosemite's such a beautiful place. The valley's green as it can be and the forest floor's full of woodland birds, flying back in and serenading us with their sweet songs again. The canyons greet us with their posing stone fortress but also feeling quite at home with the rest of us.
None of us are complaining though. Being near such a special park is amazing. We're far safer than most of our companions are in the vast world though. We're just the lucky ones and yet even here, not all of us are so lucky So close to a secure place to grow and thrive and yet, so far. I'm not complaining though.
Some seasons may change, but I'm happy to stay the same for all of eternity.
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