Our three story house in Maine sits on a knoll, the driveway gently curves a reverse C heading into a three car garage, the third is roofed. Even if it’s surrounded by tall trees I don’t miss the morning sun streaking into the bedroom, glint of light prying my eyes. I wasn’t successful at dismissing those lights through the numerous mornings it nudges me out from the warmth of the bed.
I couldn’t help but wonder how my fiancé is so fond of lamps. Uncontented, The third floor room which is the masters bedroom is well lit, two ceiling lights one on each end of the room, two bedside lamps, hallway lamp, dresser lamp, he has to put up a sun tunnel in the bathroom and another one in the kitchen. His love for everything bright and light is incomparable.
One bright morning I heard a very light and fine voice calling, the letter A clearly enunciated and the rest slowly fading away. I called on J now eating his breakfast by himself, a morning person and can’t stay in bed a minute more after seven, told him to have his breakfast. ‘Did you call me’, I yelled. ‘No’ more yelling. Going back to the bedroom area I am staring at dancing lights by the window, I’m startled, unscared, it was entertaining with how color lights changes from deep hue to soft jumping shades, each color as if about to fuse together but dissipates as soon as they merge only to show more spectacle that now enthralls me. I have never seen such unique colors even those expensive Fourth of July fireworks.
‘I AM AURORA’. What is that? I opened my eyes, sure I’m awake now, gazing at the letters that may disappear any time if it’s my imagination playing at me. I got up at 7:05 for the morning ritual and its 7:15 now. This isn’t a dream anymore I just heard J downstairs washing the dishes. Sitting on the side of the bed looking at the window, the light works like fireworks entertainment right in front of my eyes, ‘I AM AURORA’, still written in bright colored lights by the window.
Suddenly the letters unscrambled, forming into more words, quickly as if I’m in conversation. I’m invited to Quebec, Canada her place. No, no I said, that’s 53miles to the border and another 100 perhaps to the city. We’ll make it quick, it wrote. ‘There’s no way’ I countered, but before I finished my sentence I am amidst the clouds, sunlight and mountain tops above Maine, the Woodsman Diners’ parking lot is slowly filling in with cars, Mt. Ira and Mt. Abram now looks small mound of rocks below me, passing by Coburn Gore, the boundary line between Maine and Canada. All I see were stretches of highways and roads interspersed with forest trees, leaves still green on this first day of fall. We flew west to east from Quebec to New Brunswick to Prince Edward Island. This isn’t in my bucket list, but it’s wonderful.
I am in a state of marvel, my body light like a feather, I wanted to go around and see more places. But as soon as I wished for more, I heard J calling me from the foot of the stairs, ‘what time you coming down?’ I blinked, the clock registered 8:00 o’clock. It’s seventy five degrees today reminding myself of the weather forecast and I could feel the humidity coming.
‘Are you still sleeping?’ My response a big yawn and arms stretching in V, unsuspecting, he reiterated my desire to go to Orange Cat Cafe for the internet. And so this post.
P.S. Aurora is a Canadian heroine in the Marvel comics universe. Twin sister of Northstar and former lover of Squath. She has also been in a relationship with Wild Child. Her abilities are superhuman speed and durability, light generation/manipulation, light projection.
I forgot to tell you, before she left I felt a brush of wind on my ear, a whisper, ‘You are my child’. Which incidentally now justifies why J is so fond of lights, sun tunnel and all, for me, the Child Light.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Storybook Day.”