Giver

At first, I felt cold. Hard and cold. A description that has been assigned to me on many occasions. Only this time, I felt alone and my mouth was closed. Not a single opinion had been voiced. I still felt cold. I rubbed my legs in an attempt to change that but the prickles would not be persuaded. Strands of hair were sweeping gently across my face, likewise shifting the leaves off in the distance. I wonder if they felt cold. I could feel the sun touching my skin rather lightly. I tried to focus on nothing other than the sun, I tried to think only about the warmth. Yet the harsh sounds of people walking past me, throwing the small conglomerate stones with their feet kept grabbing my attention. I tried to push them away. Ironic. I wanted to feel the sun. My mind was wandering, I couldn't focus. The breeze had shifted and the faint sent of oranges had crossed my path. For a brief moment I thought my mucous filled membranes were tricking me, or maybe it was my brain. Distracted again, I felt a frigid twinge of pain run up and down my spine reaching the most tender corners of my body, correcting my frenzied mind. The sun, the sun, the sun. As if repeating it in my head would amount to more than just a basic understanding of the thing touching my skin. I could feel the heat slowing creeping up my back, checking each doorway to make sure it was safe to continue. Smack. It was stopped by the tuneless sound of a language I did not understand. In a single moment I felt defeated. Slinking away from thoughts of smooth golden warmth, I pulled my legs and arms closer to my core. Eyes opened I searched for the faces I knew. Found the ones I wanted and instantly closed my eyes again. I wanted more time. Erect, I thought of nothing but how they would want to go and glacially let the sun advance upwards hitting the nape of my neck. I heard the gravel jettison around me. Then the sun was gone and the chill of shade once again took hold over the landscape. It was time to go.    

(Aventine Hill)