TWENTY-ONE2016

The Commune

Dream

A group of us traveled to a home owned by Raindrop, a notable actress in Hollywood, and a new family member of Listening Lark. The home was in an upscale community known for their lush landscaping, hiking trails, and remote canyons. The house wasn’t too far from our current location, but Brother Jim wanted to consider moving Listening Lark to the home because of its size. Raindrop’s house had six bedrooms and eight bathrooms, double what we had at Grandmother’s house, plus a pool and a guesthouse, all on five acres of land, unheard of in this area. We would have plenty of space for all family members with her house and Grandmother’s, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Grandmother’s house was becoming increasingly crowded, a good thing in a way because that meant Listening Lark was expanding and growing; but in daily life, I was feeling a bit stressed by the close quarters. I was glad Sunny and I were along for the house tour. We planned to spend the weekend to really get a feel for the space.

The van pulled up to a gated driveway which opened for our entry, and we traveled up the driveway, lush green foliage lining either side until we pulled up to a two-car garage with a wide arched red brick stairway on the side. Bright red geraniums sprouted from terracotta pots, lining the stairway. Another set of stairs sat farther to the right, a large eucalyptus tree and mature vegetation separating them.

Brother Jim parked the van, and we piled out. Sunny grabbed my hand, her eyes bright.

“Let’s go explore,” she said.

“Please do,” Raindrop said, running a hand through her long strawberry blonde mane. “My home is yours. We are family.” She grasped Jim Bob’s hand and looked at him adoringly. “My family is home.”

“So we are. Thank you, Raindrop,” Brother Jim said in his usual melodic voice. He turned to us. “Have fun. Pick out a bedroom you would like to spend the weekend. Just not Raindrop’s room.”

We laughed, and Raindrop moved closer to Brother Jim. They had gotten together immediately after Raindrop arrived at the commune. She was beautiful and rich, an intoxicating combination for Brother Jim.

“Thank you, Brother Jim,” Sunny said, her gaze going back to me. “Come on, Dream. Explore with me.”

I didn’t need a second invitation. I grabbed Sunny’s hand, and we ran up the stairs. We reached the front door, wide glass with wood etching, a balcony above, French doors with a half-moon at the top allowing passage to the balcony from inside. The front door opened to a cool spacious foyer with shiny white tile floor. Large, stately potted plants stood on each side of the front door.

We hurried through the archway in the foyer to a large open living room located on the right, done in white and coastal blue with large, deep sectional sofas sitting on a soft rug in various shades of swirled blue. Another archway led into the cavernous kitchen, a vision in white and marble with shiny stainless-steel appliances. A large dining room with a full built-in wall of shelves displaying china in pristine white, and a large brown marble-style table in the center of the room. The first floor also boasted a comfortable study, more built-in shelving, and two bathrooms, one located in the study, another in the hallway.

Now we moved up the wrought-iron stairway to a bold patterned hallway, the walls papered with blue and gray in a loud pattern. The numerous bedrooms, some with balconies and fireplaces, held soft carpets over hardwood floors, sumptuous queen- and king-size beds with bright floral bedspreads and most had ensuite bathrooms.

Sunny particularly liked the bedroom with an enclosed balcony that afforded a glimpse of the Pacific Ocean in the distance. She peered down into the yard below and said in an excited voice, “Ooh, let’s go see the guesthouse by the pool.”

We made our way downstairs, out the glass patio doors, to the yard, first onto a large terracotta patio shaded by lemon trees. A long, brown wicker table sat in the center; comfortable cushioned chairs surrounded it. A few lounge chairs to take a nap in the shade. An archway from the patio led to the pool and hot tub area, more lemon trees around the space; a wide-open spot in the vegetation gave a peek of the ocean. To the left of the pool, tucked away in a cozy grove of orange trees and a huge live oak, was the guesthouse.

A white adobe structure with a red terracotta roof and large window planters spilling over with ivy. Sunny ran to open the door, revealing a small kitchen and living area, more of the white and coastal blue color scheme, a bedroom, a king-size bed dominating the space, but still room for a closet and tall dresser, plus a bathroom with a huge walk-in shower.

Sunny slipped off her sandals and pulled me into the shower with her, tossing off her tank top and shorts, and turned on the water. I discarded everything I had on.

“Let’s make this our new home,” she whispered to me, between kisses, her hands rubbing my chest. “We’ll call it Sunny Dream.”

“Anything you want,” I said in a hoarse voice. “This will be our new home.”

And it was. For a time.

TWENTY-TWO2023

Aimee

School started for the year and Archie was busy making lesson plans, getting to know his students and adjusting to a new school. He was very focused on his work and, while I was happy that he got so much enjoyment from it, I did get a bit tired of talking about reading scores and different math strategies, so when the Welcome Back to School Carnival came around, I begged off, claiming a headache. I made my contribution, homemade brownies, to the event. He didn’t need me there, and I didn’t want to go. I’d leave the socializing to Archie and Robin. The thought of making small talk bored me to tears.

He’d be home late. A group of them were going out for drinks afterward, although Archie probably wouldn’t get anything stronger than an iced tea. He wasn’t much of a drinker and since he was going out with friends from work, he’d still want to keep it professional.

That meant tonight was all about me. A night to myself, meditation, maybe a little chanting, freeing myself like I used to do. I had missed summer solstice; we were so busy moving and getting the store ready. It was funny, Archie didn’t know the strong ties I had to Mother Earth, or the lifestyle I once lived. No, I’d left all of that behind when I left Listening Lark. I wondered if I would ever share this side of myself with him. I also wondered if he hid sides of himself that he didn’t want to share with me. Secrecy was an ongoing theme in my relationships. I didn’t like talking about my past and didn’t see a need to do so, but I think that’s unusual. Most people want to share everything about themselves with their significant other, but I viewed it as useless. If you keep digging in the past, you’re only looking for trouble in the present.

Lately I’d been feeling old longings for certain aspects of that life. I never could have imagined being married to such a straight arrow like Archie. I was thankful for it though. He grounded me; his practicality and logic were foundations for a happy life. Two people dancing under the sun blissfully unaware, or uncaring, about what happened next, never worked successfully for very long. I’d changed since those days in the sun, but I still had a longing for them. Everything was so strongly felt in that time period at Listening Lark. My sense of touch, sound, sight, and especially emotions. A time when I felt so raw and open to anything, and that anything was possible, even though now with the distance of years gone by, I realized how much of it wasn’t a true representation of the time. Many aspects were only illusions of what others wanted me to see, but still, my feelings had never been so vigorous and alive, like a fresh new bud on a flower absorbing all it could grasp.

I sat by the pool, moonlight shimmering off the water, smoking the sacred herb. I didn’t smoke often, certainly not as much as I used to, but I kept a stash of it hidden away for special occasions. Maybe I shouldn’t say special occasions, just for times when I craved it. Archie didn’t know about it. I realized Archie didn’t know many of my secrets.

But sometimes you are better off not knowing every single detail about someone. We all have a past, but some pasts are much more complicated than others. I possessed the complicated type.

I took another drag, my body relaxing into a state I’d been missing. I wore the white bohemian-style dress I’d bought while shopping with Robin last week, its soft cotton material kissing my skin, reminding me of another dress, in another time, barely out of my teens and in love for the first time.

I’d been thinking about Dream quite a bit lately. When I saw him at the farmers’ market, the first time we met, I was so drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t stay away from him. I knew we would be together by the frenzy inside of me. I went back to my dorm that night, but Dream consumed my thoughts. He took over all my thoughts and all I wanted was to be with him every minute of the day. Dream. Even his name sounded so delicious to me. A tall, slim guy with dark, almost black, hair that hung wild and loose midway down his back and dark, smoldering eyes that seemed to drink me in as if he’d been traveling in the desert and longed for a glass of cold water. A never-ending thirst. The energy and attraction between us crackled, almost difficult to articulate the sensuality between the two of us. He always said the universe brought us together. I must admit it was a force, a connection between us, unlike anything I experienced in the past.

Irresistible.

But things change.

I sighed, took a long drag, the last of it, and put it into the dirt of a planter on the patio. I stood up, walking across the yard into the cornfield, now with stalks higher than myself. The long leaves brushed against my bare arms as I walked through the tight narrow rows. A full moon shone above me, majestic in its beauty, and I raised my hands to the moon goddess shining her light down on my mortal body.

I tilted my head back, itchy leaves of the corn scratching my arms as I walked farther into the field, its claustrophobic environment securing me in a tight cocoon. My bare feet traveled lightly; my toes dug into the dusty earth beneath me. Mother Earth’s life-giving soil, while the moon goddess bathed me in her brilliant white light.

I stopped and drank in the energy pulsating through my body. My mind flickered with memories, some good, some not, but in this moment of enlightenment I could feel Dream’s hands on me, traveling the curves and sweet spots of my body. I could smell his scent and felt his lips on mine, reliving the memories of so long ago. The sacred herb and the moon energy played with my rational mind, and I’m not sure how long I stayed in that trancelike state.

Then I heard Archie calling for me, almost as if he stood at the end of a tunnel. I snapped out of my dazed state and ran toward his voice, dodging through the cornstalks scratching me and snagging my dress once, then the field cleared and I entered the yard, running, my white dress flowing behind me, a vision I’m sure under the bright harvest moon.

“What…” Archie stared at me. “What are you doing?”

I said nothing. Instead, I gave him a long, slow kiss, savoring the taste of his mouth and the feel of his body touching my own. He responded and we tumbled onto the soft grass, our bodies intertwined.

His hands were on me now, lovingly caressing my body, seeking what lay beneath the thin cotton material of my dress. We quickly discarded our clothes, bathing only in moonlight from the moon goddess, writhing on the cool grass, seeking the pleasure we both craved. A thought filtered into my mind as we rose to climax.

I wondered if Dream watched from afar.

TWENTY-THREE2023

Aimee

The morning at the store passed quickly. I’d begun adding products of local farms to my merchandise such as goat’s milk hand lotion, alpaca scarves and hats, homemade yogurt, various planters, including fresh herbs, perfect to fit into a kitchen window ledge, homemade sourdough bread, and homemade candies. My little market was filling its shelves and all the products were selling nicely. The neighboring farms were happy to have a central place in town to sell their wares, in addition to their small in-house farm stands.

I hired a part-time employee, a young Amish woman, to work a few hours a week. Rachel lived on a dairy farm on the outskirts of town and usually walked to work, although sometimes her brother, Eli, would drop her off in the horse and buggy. She was a quiet eighteen-year-old with bright eyes, and a hard worker. The dark solemn Amish uniform did little to enhance anyone’s looks, but Rachel’s beauty was evident even with the constant oppressive black and rigidly pulled back hair, covered in a black cap. I would think Amish women would have a splitting headache from having their hair so tightly pinned up all day. I certainly couldn’t stand it.

I put the last bottle of goat’s milk lotion on the shelf and arranged the sourdough loaves next to the homemade jams. Everything was ready to open tomorrow—time to close for today. I already called Poplin Chicken for takeout to pick up on the way home for dinner. I went to lock the door.

John stood outside.

I opened the door. “Oh, hey, John. I was just locking up for the day,”

“I just wanted to get some more of that strawberry jam. Grandma loves it on her toast in the morning and she ate the last of it this morning,” he replied.

“Um, okay, sure,” I said, letting him inside. I walked over to the jam. “How many would you like?”