Another read

Apparently life is more fun than writing or perhaps I am too happy to be in this written place but this story has stalled big time. I think this is not a genre I will explore further but shall share as an interesting snippet because I like the visual descriptions: 

     Tears hurt. It had been months of aching days each stomping her further down. Sunshine helped though. Lying on the warm lawn with the sun glowing red behind her eyelids gave her a sense of comfort; a moment of peace, when her whole body felt warm and alive.

     The world sounded busy at grass level, dogs barking, birdsong and airplane roar. A distant siren pulsating with emergency vibrated in her ear. “Someone is worse off than me,” she whispered to the sky. She envisioned a ruined vehicle crumpled and cutting into a victim, shards of broken glass winking like diamonds on the street. Squinting, her tears sparked, shifting light through her wet lashes. She wished she could just breathe herself into the dirt. Calmly inhaling and exhaling until finally deflated and boneless, she mingled with the mulch. Only the painful, wet lumps of her eyes would be left, to watch burrowing worms and ants until a robin drilled its beak into their core allowing them to mercifully drip away.

     No instead, she lay like a Gulliver, one giant feeling presence on the lawn. Her survival mind dogged her to get up, and move! The leaden pain in her heart held her prone, lacking energy or desire to stir. Yet, warmth from the sun made her body feel whole, as if her arms, torso and head were absorbing those rays, pulling her molecules together.  Sunshine made her smile and the redness behind her eyelids became a soothing glow, not the fire of tears.

      Breezes blew strands of her hair, drying her cheeks. She lay quietly breathing in the perfume of growing things, hearing the prickly rustle of grass blades when she turned her head. Opening her eyes, she gazed at pink stars, tiny blooms pushed through the brown, leafy debris. Born from the basic elements of soil, buffeted by hardships of weather this simple plant forced beauty into a minuscule spot in the world; existing only to be and growing because it was alive.

Words breathe life or entwine with emotion. Overall, I think I prefer more humor. Travel journals seem to be my favorite format lately, unfortunately the trip budget is on hold. Perhaps I will take a vacation approach to my community and see what I end up with...