I skulked towards the clearing, my sandals bruising innocent harekeke weeds from underneath. Despite it being an unnaturally sunny September, I become colder, drawing closer to the fire pit. I halt. In the place of the sturdy fence once guarding Rainbow Beauty Kahia now lays a scatter of worn, tired posts, no longer facing north.
I close my eyes, using my index and middle fingers to stoke my cheeks. I am ready to embrace the habitat I have missed so much; I no longer have to interrogate its existence. The air by the waterfall is crisp, charged with negative ions, which awaken my senses, leading me to the scent of rich dark soil, an aroma familiar to me, it leave me yearning after other memories.
I give in to the temptation of the view, praying Goddess Branwyn will emphasize with my curiosity to have a look. The waterfall still whistles as shrilly as she did all those years ago, just as I remember her.
She exhales a shrill cry, pushing me back, out of the clearing. Finger painted tribal tattoos upon my cheeks are broken by tears, exposing my façade.
I fall back; the shock of the land pulls me back to reality, all traces of rapture disconnected. My innocent palms grazed, I heave myself up, digging my heels into the soil. My toes tense as the sticky, gooey cake-batter mud strangles them.
For a little more than a split second, I forget where and who I am.
Without looking back, my sway transforms to a brisk walk. My agility returns to me as slowly as the haunting cries of the waterfall howl behind me.
This, the indelible place I lived in, is not as pure spirited as I remember.
KM