I'm going to try writing some more so here is my submission for this (https://steemit.com/contest/@mikepm74/the-fresh-five-s-first-steem-backed-contest-writing-prompt-challenge) contest!
She had a tiring day, particularly depressing too. It was time to go home now, to her loneliness and her sadness yet again. She was a tired person: tired of being called “uptight” just for trying to remain comfortable and tired of repetition and tired of being modest and tired of “playing the game”. Wake up, go to work, go home exhausted, sleep and repeat. Was this all there is to life? Because if it was she doesn’t think she can bear it much longer. But making a major change is just.. so hard. Could she even do it?
On her way home she always crosses past a wheat field which reminds her of her childhood adventures, given that she grew on her grandparents’ farm. Every day on the way home she wonders how it would be like to just lay there and forget about the world and its problems.
She doesn’t know why, but today feels different. Could today be the day..? Yes. She is tired of doing the same thing. She is tired of fantasizing about something she could so easily do, just like when she was a child, but never doing it. Today she feels like she doesn’t owe the world an explanation, doesn’t owe it to anyone to respect their rules and conventions, and she feels thankful to be freed of these expectations. So she stopped the car in the middle of nowhere, got out and started walking towards the center of the field. It wasn’t a particularly chilly day but the wind was blowing, making the wheat do a beautiful dance as if just for her. It felt weird although familiar, the feeling that she wanted to be closer to the nature around her. So she disrobed herself leaving only her underwear and her favorite scarf.
She felt as if the field was calling to her. Calling and calling and all she wanted was to go there, further and further into the field. What remains of the dusking sun warmed her naked skin. She decided to lay down, be one with the field.
She closed her eyes, hands playing with the wheat surrounding her. She could feel the wind touching her and the shadows of the plants playing on her. She realized she finally had the time, so she closed her eyes and breathed in, and then out, and the in again, slowly, enjoying every breath like it’s her first and her last. She touched her skin and it felt softer than usual. Her favorite scarf, wrapped around her chest and head, felt softer than ever before.
This evening didn’t solve her problems. Tomorrow she’ll have to go to work again, deal with people that are ugly on the inside and she’ll get tired again. But today she feels a little better. She can feel the wind in her hair, the shadow of the plants on her skin, the fresh air in her lungs and the feeling of belonging in her bones. She’ll make it. She’ll make it.
