The park was always a place to connect with her fellow human, all while communing with nature. In fact, nature is what inspired Lunnah to connect and not dive deeper in recluse mode.
The park wasn’t all glimmering sunrays and dancing trees limbs, though. Lunnah held a sense of loss within her when the people she observed going about their personal “normal” headed to what was next, away from her field of view.
The laughing children building a fort on the beach out of sticks and rotting logs. Children she wanted to help, especially the one trying to lug a branch, two times the height of her across the uneven terrain.
A tattooed shirtless old man sitting on a green outstretched towel finishing up some paperwork or perhaps, like Lunnah, writing poetry or his next best seller. An old man she wanted to ask questions to. What story was behind each and every tattoo—especially the ones that were so sun-faded you couldn’t make out the words without squinting? Why did he come to the park alone? Did he commune with nature to keep his mind off of his beloved wife that he lost?
A mother struggling up the gravel hill with her newborn in a stroller. A mother she wanted to assist, but as soon as she rose from her elevated grassy spot, both mother and babe made it up.
The moth that found Lunnah’s limbs to be the ideal perches. A moth she helped by freeing its dainty legs from the clutches of a red ant, but still apologizing to the ant for stealing away it’s queen’s dinner.
And as each feathered, furred, or fleshed creature departed, she said a silent goodbye infused with positive vibes. The only thing that was left apart from a trail of light? Her brief memory of them.
Though not parted by death, beyond death, memories are what we were to become on Planet Earth.
We became the earth.
Maybe it was possible to run into these creatures again in another life.
Lunnah genuinely hoped the earth wouldn’t become them anytime soon. She may had not even said a word to any of these passerby, but she hoped with every single fiber that created her being, that many more sunny days awaited them.
The moth that had initially landed on her leg was still there, right at home.
And no matter how much Lunnah blew on it and gently nudged it with a blade of grass, it remained a statue.
It was the moth’s time.
If she kept it on her leg long enough, would it become her?
Would she take on part of it?
Lunnah was already fond of flames…