I sat below an oak tree, leaves more brown than green. Back propped against its sturdy frame, with a Kindle cradled in my hand, I must proclaim.
I had spent the better part of my day inside reading.
It had been raining and pouring, but thankfully, since I like to read in quiet, no old man had been snoring. I wanted to be outside, but I didn't let that ruin my day,
so Mother nature got mad and stormed away.
Finally, it was just me and my reading tree. Peace and quiet all around me. And to my delight,
warm and light.
The words I read drew me into another world.
Which was good because in ours, sometimes all I can see is anger, hate, and pain. And I do not want to live that way, only seeing those things. I know there is still a lot of good in this world.
I heard someone clear their throat.
I tried and failed not to startle,
so engrossed and lost in another place, free of time and space.
I looked up to see a man,
I looked up to see a man, embarrassment in his face.
"It's not your fault," I say. I gave him a warm smile, one I hope conveys my words.
He returned my smile with a soft one of his own. The stranger was dressed in a way I had never seen and he spoke in a language I had never heard. Tall, with glasses that slimed his face.
Skinny with a large belt wrapped around his waist. Absently the stranger tapped his leather book clutched in his hand with his forefinger. Then he gestured from the tree to me and to himself.
"Of course, " I say in near shock. It wasn't my tree of course. I just called it such as it was just a place I loved to read.
He gave me a slight bow, and I shook his hand.
We read for hours in silence. We had said all that was needed to be said and understood all that need to be understood. We were two strangers brought together by their love of reading.
Sun falling behind the horizon; light fading into night.
With no more light left to read by, we both stood. I bowed. The stranger shook my hand, and we went our separate ways.
And everything wrong in the world, at least for us, in that moment...