By now it was probably close to eleven and our mail likely sat in the mailbox at the end of the lane, usually arriving around nine thirty or ten. I tightened the sash on my robe and walked down our paved lane.

The warm sunny day brightened my body and mind, a welcome departure from my sluggish entry to the day. My flip-flops clicked on the blacktop, and I soon arrived at the mailbox. I opened it, took out the stack of mail, and walked back to the house, flipping through the envelopes.

A few pieces of junk mail, two magazines, a bill from our insurance company, and a yellow card envelope with no return address. The addressee, on a typed computer label, stopped me midway up the lane.

Sunshine Lotus.

I quickly tore open the envelope. Inside was a photograph of myself and Dream. We stood in front of the guesthouse, at Raindrop’s house, our home at the time. I wore a pale-yellow bikini; he wore blue swimming trunks with a white stripe down the side. Swimming suits were pretty much all we wore that year, sometimes not even those. Dream’s arm was draped around my waist and mine around his. We smiled at the camera, or whoever took the picture. I remembered that day. I remembered who took the picture.

Brother Jim. Or Jim Bob as Dream sometimes called him, much to Brother Jim’s annoyance, if any other family members were around.

I clutched the picture and ran up the lane, back into our house, locking the door behind me.

TWENTY-FIVE2016

The Commune

Dream

The Zen Yoga Deck at Raindrop’s house was a pleasure I never knew I needed. Located through the orange and lemon trees, behind the pool, in a grove of coastal live oaks and sycamore trees, was a large bamboo platform with a thatched roof and sheer white curtains on every side that flowed beautifully in a soft breeze.

Sunny and I were there that morning, just past sunrise, with our purple yoga mats stretched out on the platform, wispy curtains blowing in the early morning breeze. It was a bit cool at that time of day but invigorating. Raindrop and River joined us that morning. We were all nude.

Nude yoga is such a freeing experience. Not necessarily sexual, but certainly sexy. No, the practice is more about baring yourself physically and mentally, removing anything which could hinder you from a higher consciousness, one with Mother Nature, the mind, body, and soul. Without any physical barriers, your body in its natural state is more open to receiving the positive energy you seek. This was an experience I was certain everyone could enjoy in their lives.

We were in Cat-Cow flow, oxygen filling my body with each breath. I stared at Sunny, beside me, her tight, tanned body a feast for my eyes. I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather be in that moment in time.

The air hung sweet, the scent of fresh cut grass still evident from River’s yardwork yesterday, mingling with the aromatic purple sage that grew around the yoga deck, mixed with lush green maidenhair ferns. We completed our last Cat-Cow and moved into Savasana. As we lingered in the restorative pose, I listened to birds twittering in the trees around the space, bidding their good morning to all. I breathed deeply, exhaling away any lingering stress that may have resided in my body. A deep calm filled my body.

Sunny reached for my hand, and I stood and lifted her from the mat. River and Raindrop did the same, all of us in a calm, relaxed state. I allowed my gaze to drift to Raindrop for a moment while Sunny picked up her yoga mat. She’d had breast implants done not too long ago and I must say, they were very well done. My gaze did not linger though; I knew better than that. Sunny had a jealous streak, and her sweetness could turn to venom in a flash.

River caught my stealth look and smiled. “Beautiful out here, isn’t it,” he remarked.

I nodded and grinned. Sunny and I waved goodbye to them and headed back to the guesthouse. Before we went inside, we took a quick dip in the pool. A few minutes later, Raindrop and River ran past the pool, laughing, and chasing each other. They disappeared into the house.

“Do you think they’re having sex?” I asked Sunny. She leaned against the steps in the pool.

“Yes. Definitely,” she replied, running a hand through her long golden hair. “I heard them the other night, out here in the pool. You were sleeping.”

“Oh, really,” I asked. “Did you watch?”

She flicked water at me. “I’ll never tell.”

I laughed and swam the length of the pool. Raindrop was one of Brother Jim’s women. As far as most of the family knew, he was with Raindrop and Moonbeam. He spent his time between Grandmother’s house, where Moonbeam lived, and here because of the growing tension between the two women. His assistant, Jasmine, traveled with him to both locations. She often joined both relationships.

Oh, Jim Bob was going to flip when he found out about River. For all his talk about sexual freedom, he expected to be the only one for his chosen ladies. The old double standard.

Well, maybe that’s one thing we had in common.

TWENTY-SIX2023

Aimee

I placed the photograph and the envelope on the kitchen island and stared at both. My skin prickled, my forehead slick with sweat as I studied the photo. I was sick of this person playing games. I wanted them to come out and tell me clearly what they wanted. Were they having fun, thinking they were scaring me? Although today, looking at this photograph only brought back good memories for me. Happy times.

The idyllic months living in Raindrop’s guesthouse cast feelings of freedom and love in my heart and mind. I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo. Dream and I were so happy, smiling by Raindrop’s pool. My heart ached looking at him, feeling such sadness at how everything used to be between us. It was a time when I thought anything was possible. Listening Lark was the first place I felt like I truly belonged and was loved. Where I was part of something bigger than myself and the longing inside me was finally satisfied. There, I hadn’t been lonely anymore. Tears welled in my eyes as I continued to stare at the picture. I missed all of them. Raindrop. River. Even Moonbeam, but especially Dream. If I could have stayed in a time loop in Listening Lark during the good times, I would in a heartbeat. I would have never left. Chanting in the mountains. The tiny cabin Dream and I shared when I first moved in. The guesthouse at Raindrop’s house. Big dinners together. They were my family. Listening Lark was a utopia.

Until it wasn’t.

I snapped out of my daydream, wiped my tears and thought logically about the photo, leaving the sentiment behind, where it should be left. Why send this to me now? After so many years? Time passed and people moved on. I didn’t even know if Listening Lark still existed. I didn’t want to know. I wouldn’t live in the past, but I needed to figure out what they wanted from me. What was the goal of these random gifts, if I would call them so, and strange occurrences at our house? To scare me? To hurt Archie and I?

One thing I knew.

Archie could not know about my past. I had closed the door on that part of my life and I would never open it again.

And if this person thought they would scare me with a few well-placed objects and lights turning on and off they had forgotten who I was, or maybe they never really knew me. Sometimes I wondered if anyone truly knew me.

Having people underestimate you is most often a gift.

It gives you an advantage. At least in my experience.

I glanced at the photo one last time before putting it away, and another thought crossed my mind.

This might be Dream’s way of saying he forgave me.

Could I forgive him?

What if Listening Lark was calling me home?

I rummaged through my closet trying to locate the shoebox of memories from my time at the commune. My time with Dream. I shoved a pile of purses to the side, sure I’d put the box underneath, but there was nothing.

I sat back on the hardwood floor. We only moved in a few months ago, and I remembered placing it under the purses. Why I even kept it, I didn’t know, but I couldn’t throw it out. Those things in that box were the only physical reminders of that period of my life. I dug around in my closet a little more, but it was useless. The box was gone.

Whoever sent me the photo and put the turquoise necklace on the vanity took the entire box. I remembered all the contents of the box. Necklace, a few photos, two dried lotus flowers, a soft T-shirt of Dream’s and a key to the guesthouse.

Raindrop gave me the key one afternoon when Dream and River went to pick up Brother Jim from the other house. I was sunning in a lounge chair by the pool and she walked outside, directly to me, clothed in a silky pink robe, looking gorgeous as always, and pressed the key into my hand.

“It’s the guesthouse key,” she said in a low tone.

“Uh… we don’t lock the doors.” I shook my head. “I don’t need this.”

“Keep it,” she said, glancing around. Nobody was in our immediate area. “I have a key to my bedroom. Sometimes I lock my bedroom door when I’m avoiding Brother Jim. I don’t need to come into my bedroom in my house and find him waiting for me.”

“You do?” I said, shocked.

Raindrop looked at me. “He’s been changing lately, been more physically aggressive. He’s different than I originally thought, all of this is. I’m not putting up with that. And he’s related to Dream, so maybe they share that tendency.”

“No,” I said firmly. “Dream is not like that.”