The Phoenix

CHANGE – I hate change – fear of the unknown.
September 2006 – what will my surroundings be like a year from now?

Do not take away the large hydrangea bush, that towers above the well trodden path, that which gives shelter to my Spring flowers and clothes herself with a mantel of white and pink in the cooling Fall days.

Do not take away the bushes large and small that give our long lived in habitat protection from the Winter snow and Summer sun. The large unkempt bush affront our door with space within to hide small children at play in their secret world.

Do not take away the tennis courts that gave pleasure to many over the years. The tennis players’ conversations echoing like church bells in the early Sunday hours. Their legs once nimble are planted firmly now, waiting for their partner to send the yellow orb towards them – gently.
They chat about grandchildren and golf, football and fences – then occasionally make a hit – thirty love!!
The surrounding high fence from which a young neighborhood boy would hang, bat-like, on a still summer night, making hissing noises near our window for reasons known only to him.

One night I return and all my comfort and protection is gone.
Gone never to return.
Stumps and rotted wood are all that remain.
All looks barren and bare.
The winter chill now whistles long and low through the cracked door.

The tennis courts soon fall victim to the large yellow monster as its sharp, jagged teeth rip the smooth rust and green body apart. Cracking, banging, tearing with no thought of what went before. No reverence for the past. All that is left is rubble, piles and piles of rubble.
Then in the quiet of a still October evening a young man stealthily goes over to the broken mass and softly removes a small piece of the rust painted asphalt. “I shall remember,” he whispers softly as he disappears into the darkening night.

For months there is no visible movement above the ground but the earth is being prepared to give birth. The foundations are being set. The dark, cold, damp earth is opening up like a mother’s womb. Is this a womb of new birth or is it a tomb holding tightly all that was known and loved?
Nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing is seen by the passing eye but now there is movement deep within the earth. Like the embryo unseen the new life is growing.

As Spring approaches the “fair maids of February” push their long pointed green leaves through the cold brown earth until their white faces come forth and smile at the Winter sun.
Then it happens completely out of Season and in the strangest way. I have an Epiphany.
I venture forth one morning still feeling vulnerable to this new open space, and I look again with new eyes at the brown structure that appeared as if by magic. It continues to grow ever changing in color and shape. I kneel down and look through the eyes of the daffodils. They are still here, not changed, they have returned after their Winter sleep.
It is Spring. All is well.
I feel a sense of renewal, a sense of anticipation and excitement. Each new angle, each new movement of earth gives rise to wonder.
This new birthed and growing child still needs much care and devotion before she comes of age. It is now a source of fascination to me as I watch each day from my gifted vantage point.

The Summer comes in all her glory and I stand and watch childlike from curtained windows. I am so small beside the walls towering before me. Not intimidating as I once thought. Far enough away to give shelter not fear.
The yellow machines move the brown earth back and forth ever changing the landscape before me. Each morning at 7 am – not before – and not later – like a giant alarm clock – the BEEP, BEEP and THUD, THUD begin. Over the months I have grown accustomed to the sound and it gives me comfort . Did I say COMFORT? That which I have feared now gives me comfort?

The gray, glistening, granite wall holds the new verdant grass within her arms like mother and child. Sprinklers, there to preserve natures carpet, spread strings of shining jewels in the rays of the sinking sun. The trees are placed around like sentries to protect and give shade to scholars in this new found space.

It is finished – it is September 2007.
Then a vision appears in my minds eye. It is the Phoenix rising stronger from the ashes. This new life born from prosperity of gifts from those with a vision. A vision of something that pulls all together in balance, the Phoenix, the Yin and Yang – Peace.
I stop again as I look at graceful lines, that took months of planning, a year of building – a long gestation.
She stands erect, beautiful, elegant, at home and seeming to belong .
I let go of all that I feared to lose.
It is not lost it is renewed.
Elizabeth Bishop – Rejoice!!

Heather Reid 2007

Elizabeth Bishop went to WHS many years ago. She was also a writer. The new dorm has been named after her.