Above and Below: a flash essay

The lake is cold but the water clear. In another day we will see a flock of loons, at least fifteen of them, moving west like shadows across the surface. That’s how quiet it is here, how safe. All along the shoreline the trees boast their last show in a stretch of colors: greens that fade into rust and gold. Leaves lit up (or “Lit,” my son might say). Then gone. But not completely. When I walk the woods, elsewhere in thought, I have to remind myself again and again to look up, look out, look down, so that I see all is not lost, just temporarily scattered. And for a moment, what is above me is also below, forming a soft cushion. A shelter from whatever it is that pulled me away in the first place.

About Christi Craig

Christi Craig is a native Texan living in Wisconsin, working by day as a sign language interpreter and moonlighting as a writer, teacher, and editor. Her stories and essays have appeared online and in print, and she received an Honorable Mention in Glimmer Train's Family Matters Contest, 2010. You can send comments or questions via her contact page.
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4 Responses to Above and Below: a flash essay

  1. Beth Hoffman says:

    “I have to remind myself again and again to look up, look out, look down, so that I see all is not lost, just temporarily scattered.”

    Beautiful line!

  2. I agree with Beth — a beautiful line. Thank you for a thought-provoking moment.

  3. Patrice Gopo says:

    Oh wow! I was going to comment on that same line too. But the whole piece is just gorgeous. A perfect pause in the middle of my day. And I shall now “look up, look out, look down.” Thank you!

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