transcendentalism – A Piece of the Sky

It was another summer night, and Page and Alli sat in their respective rocking chairs, on the porch of Alli’s old house – her dilapidated hang-out spot, from her high school days, spent with Nealy and Aro. The night sky stretched out before them, like a future full of promise.

Page jumped up, with a sudden enthusiasm, “Get up for a second, will you?”

Alli looked confused, “What? Why?”

“Just stand up. One moment!” Page laughed.

Alli got up. Page grasped her arms and turned Alli around, so that she was standing behind Alli, “Close your eyes!”

“OK?” Alli grinned.

She felt a necklace being placed around her neck, and gasped, opening her eyes, “You shouldn’t have!”

Page had placed a diamond pendant, on a silver chain, around her neck, “See how it shines like the stars, up in the sky? They’re all there for you, Sky Avatar. Always remember that there are still good things, out there, in this world.”

They both looked up at the moon and the canopy of the heavens, from their little wooden porch, floating in space and time.

Alli was sitting at the house in the field, burnt out, twisted out, more than thirty years ago. The moon floated overhead; the flowers tossed in the evening’s gusts. A little lantern sat on the porch between them. Page, the Thunder Avatar, sat in the adjacent rocking chair.

She was dressed like a young professional. Her tall, lanky frame was graced by a slate pants suit and an obsidian blouse. Her raven hair flowed like silk and caught the deep blue of the sky, the spinning, sparkling stars – like a kindly, modern Morgan le Fay. Clear water had nothing on her almost translucent blue eyes, bright and burning in the dark.

“Aro didn’t tell me you would be this humble, this small,” Page began.

“Well, I am very short,” Alli admitted, embarrassed.

“So, you went to Dartmouth,” Page said, leaning forward, peering at her in the darkness.

“Well, you did go to Yale,” Alli answered, heat rising in her cheeks, a substitute for a blush.

“Yes, I went to college around the same time as you,” Page said in a soft voice, turning her drink on the armrest of the chair.

“Your mother served as the Lightning Avatar, the diplomatic head of the Atevars. What was that like?” Alli wondered, in awe.

Alli heard her smile, “It wasn’t that immense, really. I thought about going to the State Department, in this world, but I just became a lawyer.”

“This is the first time anyone in my family has even heard of Atev, much less became any of the Three Avatars,” Alli confessed, spreading her hands wide – a placating gesture.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Page murmured, reaching across the divide – the gap between their wooden chairs – her hair falling into her face, her right hand sporting a gold Yale ring, “You’re not going to be out of your depth. And I am sure your parents knew about how permeable this world is with Atev.”

Alli sighed, with Page’s hand resting on hers, breathing in the Thunder Avatar’s perfume – a heady feeling. The woman was a snowy pale, accentuated by her bright, red lipstick. Alli, by contrast, was folded into a warm, comfortable, pearl fisherman’s sweater.

She glanced up and knew Page was looking into her eyes, in the night. She squeezed Alli’s hand, “I know it sounds trite, but whatever comes our way, we’ll face it together.”

Wind rustled through the grasses and crickets chirped in the underbrush. The odd firefly winked in and out, working its way back to the main road. The two held hands, staring out into the void.