Retreating within

It started swimmingly. Waking naturally, coffee brewing, birds singing, all was well.  A day like any other, filled with promise and anticipation.

 

A dull roar, a grating engine labouring to perform an obviously arduous task.  More engines join the chorus and then a jagged metallic crash, debris tumbling, vehicles retreating leaving a solitary slow labourious churning of the one vehicle, groaning, moaning as it goes about its work.

 

They’re destroying the landscape.  Who they are remains unknown. Why they are doing it is a mystery too.  But one thing is certain.  Where once rows of trees lined small streams, now the bulldozer roars.  Flattening the trees with its hungry jaw, the same mouth tipping to fill the streams with red grey earth, turning beautiful rambling nature into a bland unified plain right before my eyes.

 

Dread fills me.  A million fantasies of the awful conclusions to which this action is the precursor swirl around my head.

 

I retreat inside and close the door.  Sitting tensely on my bed no amount of buffering with music or words or the whirring of fans can stop the ugly sound of nature being annihilated right outside my door from invading my heart and soul.

 

I feel sick.

 

I feel afraid.

 

I hide, unwilling to open the door for fear of what I might find, instead retreating into mind numbing activities, bingeing, not only on food that I don’t want, need or enjoy but also on mind numbing TV in copious quantities.

 

The noise continues long after dark but eventually there is blessed silence and the hope of better times tomorrow as I retreat to the sanctuary of sleep.

 

Alas, the hope was in vain.  A brief respite as dawn broke but then the discordant noise returned. More earth being moved, more land being flattened.

 

Once again, all day I hid away, retreated into myself, seeking solace in box sets and binge eating until finally I broke.  The tears came as I acknowledged my fear.  The threat to my sanctuary very real and very scary.  The possibility of this not being my haven something I may have to face.

 

At dusk I ventured out once more.  The machines all gone now, the land in front of me flat and offering a different but equally captivating beauty for me to behold.

 

As I step back inside and close the door I can only hope that what I see and feel now holds true in the weeks and months to come.

 

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