Shadows, Sprites

I had attended an event at a friends house. During the day, his daughters played with the other children who attended the event. His oldest daughter had turned seven that day. The other girls were mostly as old as his youngest daughter, five. The youngest daughter, Lizzy, was a tom-girl, content to jump on the trampoline or give orders to an adult orders on how best to fill the inflatable pool. The older girl, Kali, was quieter, more girly. I had shown her a few string tricks and she asked me repeatedly to show her how to do one of them. We worked for a while on it. She imitated my fingers as they made their loops and crosses. Slowly, patiently, she began to get the basics.

Dinner interrupted us though. We had a potluck for the night. It was preempted by birthday cake. It was no ordinary birthday cake; it was a Reese's Pieces ice cream cake. Her dad cut it into slivers for the many guests. We ate it first, a natural prerogative of a birthday's festivities. Afterward, we ate the rest of the dinner.

Throughout the day, my friend's youngest daughter had been stirring the pot. She'd been doing things that made her dad angry. She'd already spilled fingernail polish remover on the heavy wooden kitchen table and left a whitish stain underneath the lacquer. She'd take out her sister's birthday balloons and other inappropriate-but-cool-adult-stuff to play with her friends. He father told her in an increasingly loud voice to “knock it off”. He'd been firm, but fair. She still didn't like it.
Afterward, I over heard their conversations as she sat in his lap fiddling with a ribbon. “I know you want some attention. It's going to be your birthday soon and we'll have an entire day for you.” She laid her head against his bright red sunburned chest. That seemed to satisfy her enough.

The sun had just finished setting for the night. A warm summer breeze blew through the towering pines and pecan trees in the back yard. My friend called out to everyone. “Lizzy's going to have a performance.”

We all gathered together on the deck that looked out onto the huge, open back yard. Lizzy had retreated to the storage shed on the far end of the lot. She flipped a couple of switches in the shed. Lights came on in it and outside it. “Not that one, the other one,” her dad called to her. She flipped the lights a few more times until it was dark in the shed and the pale glow of the sodium security light splashed out on the evening grass. Already a CD had been playing in the background. The sounds of tribal drums and low chanting wafted through the heavy night sky, dancing with the whooshing melodies of the night wind. She was invisible in the darkness of the shed. A few tiny sparks broke the darkness. Then a finger-long flame illuminated her face and hands. She slowly, deliberately walked down the sloping board that led into the shed. “Ow,” she said as the light went off.
“That's ok,” her dad said. “Do it without the lighter.” She ran back into the shed for a moment and laid something on the ground. She began her procession down the plank again. The security light bathed her in a cool, bluish-green light as she passed directly underneath it. Her bare feet took her over the long blades of St. Augustine grass. As she walked forwards, the shadow before her grew longer and thinner. Throwing her hands above her head, she began to dance. She leapt here and there over the cool grass. The rhythm that filled the air matched her delicate steps as her tiny feet kissed the ground and lifted to imitate fluttering birds. Her silhouette twisted and turned as the lithe, long shadow mirrored her every movement. She cupped her hands to her face and called out, “That's the end of act one.” Everyone clapped heartily as she ran back to the shed for a moment.
Returning with a long broom handle that she held the end of it holding it aloft, she began her entrance again. Putting one foot in front of the other, she walked down the gangplank. She began spinning the stick with both hands. At first, she spun it above her head, but then she spun it around her waist and finally she twirled it with one hand then the other on either side of her body.
By this time, Kali had snuck up on the side of the yard. She made her way back to the shed, walked into the darkness with a similar slow, dramatic entrance. When she stepped on the grass, she flipped over in cartwheel. Her feet hit the ground next to Lizzy. While Lizzy's stick made its elliptical motions, the Kali stood on her hands, turned somersaults and tumbled along, pressing the grass to the still warm earth. Her shadow followed its master, undulating and turning with the geometry unique to its own dark world.
“OK, now how does it end?” her father called into the darkness.
“In just a second,” Lizzy said finishing a few more turns and twirls of the stick. The chanting working to a pitch in the background. Kali lowered herself into the splits and raised her hands above her head; her fingers splayed out as though she were reaching for the stars overhead. Lizzy finished with the stick above her head. “The end!” she called out to us. We broke out in rousing applause. They bowed deeply.
One by one, the adults crept inside back to the light of the kitchen and the glow of the television set. The girls followed as well, soon transfixed around the shifting colors of the square box in the living room. I paused for a moment looking out upon the silver-tinted blades of grass and the finger-like edges of black shadow that they cast upon each other. The air was quiet now. The light lingered. The wind still swirled around the lush leaves of the trees overhead. I wonder where the shadows go when they're finished? Where is the leak in the universe where the magic runs away? The wind only blew. The light only shown upon the hidden roots of grass.

- posted by Brian Herod @ 3:28 PM