Monday, April 27, 2015

The Miracle of Light

(AN: I'm still getting a feel for starting up again, and while I love keeping with a series, it also stresses me out. So, for the sake of newness, until I'm inspired again I'm putting the zombie story on hold. I love it, but I wrote it on the fly with no real purpose in mind. I'll do my best not to make that mistake in the future. So here's something else. A series of exercises from Write World. I hope you still enjoy my exercises! Here's today's.)

I always loved the intricacy of stained glass windows. With the sunlight streaming at just the right angle, the light was beautiful and bright through the otherwise dreary cathedral that my mother dragged me to every Sunday. She always got something out of it, and because I wanted to make her happy - despite not being the most religious person - I went without a fight. Rows of people standing, singing; rows of people sitting, then kneeling. Regardless of how many times I went, I could never get the moves right and I always found myself peaking around when everyone bowed their heads.
Sharp, pressed suits, lovely dresses...
Mine was something plain in coming from a poorer family and never nearly as fancy as the people that surrounded me. But it made my mother happy, so I wore the thing. It was sort of a faded cornflower blue with a modest neckline that fell just below my knees. I would never wear it otherwise, but I wouldn't tell her that.
Stand up, sing, sit down, kneel, more weird hand motions. Something in Latin.
I had to suppress the heavy sigh that threatened to heave out of my lungs, but focusing on those windows always made something in my brain awaken. Bright, eye-catching blues and sharp reds spiraling outward like a lotus flower...
I hated the service, but I always looked forward to those windows which I was thankful were placed near the front. I only had to shift my eyes to the side of the person speaking and zone out, letting the colors take me over.
When it ended - which never felt soon enough, but always came in good timing - mother would turn and ask, "What did you get out of the service?"
In which I would smile and say, "The light is miraculous."
And my mother seemed to accept that vague answer, nodding as we made our way out.

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