A short stream of consciousness response to mlmm’s Sunday collage prompt 42. Collage quote: “Courage Does Not Always Roar, Sometimes Courage is the Quiet Voice at the End of the Day Saying I will try again tomorrow.” Mary Anne Radmacher. The images: “tools hanging in a rickety shed; train tracks; 2 dilapidated windows side by side; 2 tribal women posing for photo . . . neither woman smiles; a rusty milk can; a mandala; wooden game pieces; old gas station pumps.”
We stand in the centre of the clear cut forest. Cacophony of birds now silent; air thick with smell of felled timber, sawdust and crusty male sweat.
“We shall always have yesterday,” he says, curious eyes searching mine for some sliver of recognition, that inhaled breath of understanding.
I shake my head, loosening the strings on my bonnet. “No, it’s ‘we shall always have tomorrow’,” I correct.
“Not us. You revolve sdrawkcab.” His suspenders hanging from the waist of his pants, undershirt looking thin from long times of repair and wear.
“Like River Song and The Doctor?” I suggested.
Now it was his turn to crinkle his face into a puzzle – “Dr. who?,” he asks.
I push a stray hank of his greying hair behind his ear. He gently cups my cheek. The bundle of wildflowers drop and fall into patterns on the now exposed, sun-baking earth. . . . .
If time is relative to the motion of the observer, then the other’s when, is my now. Their now, my when.
My courage? I will try again yesterday.