The Swirl of Tazman

This particular swirl is a land unto itself.

It spanned out inconspicuously, bedazzled with untold mysteries, each one a multitude glittering the refractions of long-hidden secrets and soon to learn discoveries. All of which lay in wait of the unsuspecting.

She chuckled a small chuckle but a large enough one to acknowledge self-recognition. She had always indeed been an unsuspecting child. Perhaps even a long hidden one in certain respects…

Yet here she is an adult by many days. Years, even. Yet, long hidden and unsuspecting in adult ways. These descriptors, these truths announce themselves in stark contrast to the clearly defined white and yellow brick road coloration of her personal journey. And even more a contrast to this creature’s bravely displayed life’s stripes, which loop in a manner courageously and openly that of a beginner. A circular motion around the vulnerability of the lower back, near the tail, the very seat of the matter, before broadening out and retracing its fluid yet marched steps along the outside of itself until the entirety of the design’s path engulfed the long height and broad length of this amazing, incredible fire-orange being, reaching the location of its very heart.

Quite a mouthful, that observation. Even as a thought, she thought, then nodded to herself in agreement as if to confirm the evaluation. As if it needed validation. It did not. The heart never does.

She deepened her gaze on the creature before her. Not that she ever took her gaze from him. He was too formidable in his bliss. Too gentle in his ferocious self confidence. He was and is a marvel, she knew. Ever so much more than simply an amazing, incredible being.

He blinked slowly. As if with supreme patience. As if waiting for her to catch up.

A quiet fascination ran through her system as she studied how the creature’s swirling marking seemed to encase itself. Broadening and enclosing. Open and protected.

Secrets run deep.

She returned her open gaze to meet his slow, randomly blinking eyes.

Magic runs deep.

His ears twitched slightly. They seemed large and yet small on the top of his somehow elfin yet triangular shaped head holding a pair of large and bright all-seeing amber eyes. Now unblinking.

Had he heard her thoughts? She suspected as much, or at least allowed herself to peer along that edge of possible knowing if not yet fully knowing that he had. But either way, this was still progress, she thought – which, now, another slow blink seemed to confirm – because at first, when they had first met face to face, she had entirely missed the many nuances of what turned out to be his many worlds. And indeed, her many worlds.

At times, fate was ironic. Like now, when something in another world scampered along her mind’s edge, testing for her awareness. From one world to another. And another, and yet another, she thought. She glanced up instinctively now. As she did the brightness of the day blanketed her vision, blinding her briefly. Yet still she made out the outlines of another swirl that danced across her eyeline into the endlessly blue canvas of sky.

Swirls must be magic, she decided, then nodded to herself in agreement as if to confirm the evaluation. As if it needed validation. It did not. Magic never does.

This, no pretend magic, she mused as her line of sight traced along the path of a spotless blue sky. This magic, not merely for descriptive purposes. This is real magic, she said softly to herself.

As she watched, she realizes a swirling leaf is no less a world unto itself. A swirling leaf dancing along sunbeams through a gush of autumn air that commanded meadow grasses to bend to their knees before swaying up and rustling out a gentle soft shoe over the land. The leaf swirled like a maeastro, dancing happily to the orchestra of life, seeking her awareness and all of life’s awareness to the now. To the magic. To the gift. Displaying its finery and skill. Effortlessly carrying an entire universe in that airy dance. Flitting, drifting, diving, soaring, spinning across the sky, tips aflame as any of the finest amber and curled about as any of the most gentle of embraces.

Transfixed, she gasped softly.

Like fairy dust, the leaf swirled. Dancing along the full spectrum of a glistening radiant blue sky. Tango-ing with the light that basks the tall grasses along the banks of the small lake and with the gusty warmish-coolish air that plays each one like strings in a harp.

She gasped softly again and smiled.

He blinked slowly then. She wondered: to validate the moment? As if the moment needed validation.

And then she realizes what he always knew: It does. Because every moment does.

NaNoWriMo2022 word count 800 words (not including this notation)

Published by Michele Hyacinth

A child in the wild blue yonder...full blooded woman with the power just to be. ~ John Haitt

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