Head Space Shift

Writing 101: A Room with a View (or Just a View)

There is a place that I used to visit that no one else could. In fact it isn’t like any other place on earth at all. This place existed as a part of me, as a part of us. It is / was our head space.

It was here that the softest summer green grass I’ve ever seen covers a wide sports field, pristine and untouched under the clearest blue summer sky. The bright sun was placed up high, casting no shadows anywhere without blazing heat as a cool spring breeze moves the air gently, stirring the grass lightly as it moves across the field. The air itself is filled with expectation, as if an excited crowd just vanished leaving behind the sense of excitement palatable in the air itself.

Facing the field, a lone aluminium  bleacher stands back drop to the endless  grass and sky. It is there that I sit,in the very middle of the bleachers, not at the bottom and not at the top, just right there in the middle watching the sports field as it lays out spread before us. I sit there, as do I and as do I and as do I. We sit there side by side, huddled on the warm metal as if there was a crowd all around us but for us, only we exist, the field, the sky and the bleachers. I always got the sense that if I so much as blinked, this moment would be filled with people excitedly watching a game in play.

My eyes look up into the sky watching for a moment as soft puffy cumulus clouds lazily drift across the sky from right to left disappearing beyond into an expanse of unknown. We sit here watching the field, chatting, arguing, debating with great emotions. We wave our hands at each other in disagreement and even shake our fingers as we point out at the field in dismay at the players out there we can not see. The heckling calls we give our voice to echo around us amid the din of noise from the greater beyond, yet here we can hear each other clearly. It is all very surreal.

I miss this place of excitement, of anticipation being held deep in the essence of it’s creation. I woke up one morning to find it gone and replaced with something unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable.

The clear blue sky was gone and replaced by a great white canvas of an expanse that was almost bright enough to hurt the eyes if I stared long enough. I found myself sitting on a soft thick colorful persian carpet, surrounded by familial arms and legs entangled in an all-encompassing hug as we all murmured soothing comforting words of encouragement and calm. All of us sitting there in an endless hug, hung somewhere in the bright white expanse, far from the green field that we had grown to think of as our home, as a barely audible thump thump of a collective heartbeat pulses though each of us connecting us as one.

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About Isabella LeCour

She is nothing more than the collections of thoughts placed into the virtual worlds. She is a poet, a mother, a lover, many things to different people. But mostly, she is nothing but smoke and mirrors - some ethereal thing that blinks in an out of existence.
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