Wednesday, November 20, 2013

The Dreaming Field


The fall is my favorite time of year to be here. I think it is the most beautiful during this time. The yellow grass I lay in turns golden in the sun, and the trees dress in beautiful shades of orange and red, reflecting the sunlight as if they were made of silk. I close my eyes and use my senses to discern the world around me. The soft, cool breeze feels like velvet as it moves across my sun kissed skin, sending chills to my spine as every hair on my body stands on end. The tall grass folded beneath me that has been warmed by the sun, in turn warms my body, as I lay prostrate on the ground beneath the cloudless blue sky. I inhale the bold, sweet aroma of the earth; each scent brings to my mind a different memory of this field.           
I feel your presence settle in the grass next to me, but I do not open my eyes.
“I knew you would find me here.” I whisper softly with a smile on the edge of my lips.
“On a day like today, where else would you be?” you answered.

            My mind flashes back to that hot summer before our first year of high school where we spent almost every day in this field, cooling our feet in the creek that runs along the bottom of the hill. I remember how I blushed when you removed your shirt to swim, and I saw the hardened strands of muscles on your back for the first time. The sun turned your blonde hair to gold, and the reflection from the water made your blue eyes dance. I realized how beautiful you were and was mesmerized by you. I sat on the bank of the creek staring, but you seemed oblivious to my gawking. I hid my red cheeks in my hands so you would not see them and know of the affect you had on me.
I did not know I had the same affect on you until weeks later, when one night we came out here and built a fire down by the creek. You had been acting strange and distant all that afternoon but would not tell me why. I tried to hide the fact that this bothered me, but eventually I could no longer hold my tears back. Like a child throwing a tantrum, I yelled at you in my girly, high-pitched voice. I told you that you were impossible and called you a jackass. I intended to storm off, but as I turned to leave, you trapped me by throwing a blanket around me, like I was in a straight jacket. I screeched and threw a tantrum while you held the blanket around me until I was tired and out of breath. You brought me closer to your chest, looked me straight in the eyes and blurted out that you loved me. I stood there in shocked silence at your blunt confession until you leaned down and kissed me. At which point I jerked away, struggling against the blanket and yelled at you again for trapping me against my will. You just laughed and silenced my protests with another kiss, which I did not fight.   

A tear escapes from beneath my lashes, runs silently across my cheek and drops off into the grass. In those memories we were still strangers to each other. Our young love consumed and excited us. Now with lines of wrinkles appearing on my forehead below the sprouting grey roots of my auburn hair, and with eyes that have dulled in color, I am not the vision I was in my youth. But you have not aged a day in my mind; your beauty is as compelling to me now as it ever was.
 “What are you thinking about?” you ask me.
“About all the memories that we have in this field.”
“Do you want to know my favorite memory?” With eyes still closed, I smile and nod in response.
“The night when we came out here after graduation and I asked you to marry me. Do you remember?”

More tears begin to bubble up under my closed eyelids. Of course I remember that night. We snuck away from our families after our graduation ceremony to come out here. You had to carry me because my high heels kept sinking to the ground and I was afraid to walk barefoot in the dark. We found our way to the grassy hill in the middle of the field and held one another while we watched the twinkling lights above us. I remember the gentle way your hand cupped my face, as you looked into my eyes and told me you wanted me in your life forever. With tears running down over my smile I told you that I wanted that too, and you slipped your class ring on my finger; in that moment I knew I would love you forever.

            My hand reaches up to the chain around my neck, and pulls out the same ring you gave me from beneath my shirt. I run my fingers over the cool, engraved metal circle. People often tell me that it is strange that I wear my high school class ring on a chain around my neck. I usually shrug them off, not offering them an explanation for my fondness of this talisman.
“I never take it off, you know?” I assure you.
“I know. I always feel close to your heart because of it.”
“This was the only piece of you I had for awhile.” My voice fills with emotion and I can speak no longer as a vision from the day you enlisted floats into my mind. I have a duty to my country you kept repeating, begging me to understand your decision. For days all I could do was cry. Not understanding how you could want to leave me or where this desire to join to army had come from. We had plans. In two years we would be graduating from college and we could finally get married and start our family. We were going to buy the land where the field is and build a big white house on the north side of the creek. You promised me that we still would have everything we dreamed of and planned. Our wedding will be on the first day of my return. Do you trust me? I told you that I did, and ceased my crying.
I vividly remember the day you left for your first tour. You had to pry my arms off from around your neck so you could join the rest of your unit on the plane. With your body no longer there to support me I fell to my knees and watched with blurry eyes as you walked away from me to fulfill your duty. I knew that you had promised to write me often, but the 3 months it took for your first letter to arrive were the hardest months of my life.  I wrote to you more often than you wrote me, wanting to tell you every trivial detail of my life, from the Spanish test I failed to the number of times I honked my horn on my way to work in the morning. I cherished each of the letters that you sent me. Reading them over and over again until I memorized every line. The last line of each letter you wrote: dream of me tonight at the foot of our hill in the field, I will meet you there. And I did meet you there, every night for a year.    

“Your face is full of sadness.” Your voice pulls me back to the present time. I hear myself wearily provide an explanation for my expression.
“I did not know that the day you left for your tour would be the last time I would see you.”
            My top and bottom eyelashes are matted together with tears dried from the cold night wind, keeping my eyes sealed. I do not think I have any more tears left in me tonight. If I did I would be sobbing uncontrollably at the memory of opening my front door to the soldiers in their dress uniforms telling me that you had been killed in action, just two weeks before you were to return and marry me.
I hear a voice shouting in the distance, pulling me out of my mournful memories and I feel your presence slipping away from me.
“It is almost time for me to leave.” I say to you. “I can hear them searching for me.”
“I know. I will always be here waiting for you.” Your voice assures me.
Mom!” I hear the voice in the distance growing closer.
“I will come back.” I promise.
“Mommy, are you sleeping?” The voice is right above me, and my long closed eyes spring open; your presence is completely gone now. I am greeted by the face of a younger version of myself standing over me with a wide smile showing off her two missing front teeth.
“No my dear, I was just dreaming.” I answer the little girl as I take her in my arms. I look past her to see a tall man, with dark hair and kind green eyes. He extends a hand out to me and on his ring finger is a gold wedding band that matches the one on my finger. I take his hand and he helps me to my feet. They do not know of the memories this field holds for me or the reason that I come here so often. I will never tell them of you; I do not wish to share your memory, for it is mine alone. That is all you are now, just a memory, a dream that lives on in this field.
“You know how your mother loves to day dream in the fields.” He tells the little girl as he takes her out of my arms, swinging her around as she giggles in delight to be in the arms of her father. I watch them as they head back toward our house on the north side of the creek. Before I follow them, I turn back to the open field where I was just laying, and once again close my eyes searching for your presence.
“I forgot to tell you something.” I feel you around me once again. “I love you Michael. I’ll meet you in my dreams.” I whisper into the wind.
“I love you, Jane. Forever.” The wind whispers back and disappears beyond the trees.
I smile with eyes open and turn to follow my family to our house on the north side of the creek.  

Heart of an Oak



The branches of my heart are laden with snow,
bending beneath the weight of emotion.
Though I bend, I am not broken, and won’t be
judged by the rings at my center.

I am not like the willow; branches running
downward like tears. But my arms reach
out like those of the great oak tree,
with shield and spear in my hand.

Each kerf made in my side
brings with it the reminder of my affliction.
In vain, it dares to make me falter; but never
once did my fortitude waver.

With the passing of the season,
branches unyielding to inherent tension,
Once denuded by ice, are once again
Filled with the colors of life

Monday, October 14, 2013

My Adventure of America's Most Haunted (but not so scary) City

Destination:             Savannah, Georgia
Date:                        August 20th-25th, 2013


Three days after my twenty-first birthday I packed my bags, hopped in my friend Jennifer’s Ford Escape and headed East toward the sunrise. In twelve hours, with only four stops we hit Atlanta, Georgia. That night I took my first taxi ride to the ATL party spot called the “Highlands” where we celebrated with Thai food and fireball shots before returning to crash in the fancy Omni Hotel downtown. The next morning, despite headaches and fatigue we rose early to make our way to our final destination: Savannah. Also known as "America's Most Haunted City."
View of downtown ATL from our hotel room at the Omni Hotel at the CNN CenterAlexandra Price Photography © 2013
Upon arrival we were met with heavy rain and flooded streets, but the weather let up just as we arrived at Bradley’s Lock and Key shop. Bradley’s is a family owned locksmith and key shop that has been in business since 1883 and is the oldest family owned business in Georgia. Inside the shop is where you really start to see how special this place is. It is filled with thousands of keys all over the walls; some new and other rusted and old, looking like they had been there since the very beginning. The place has a unique character and history that takes you back in time. Above Bradley’s is a boarding house where my friend Jen lives with seven other people. The shop is said to be haunted and is a popular stop for the Savannah Ghost Tours where you can hear scary stories of paranormal activity that have gone on in the shop. I stayed here for a week, and the place was actually very cozy; no ghosts were seen!

Bradley's Lock and Key in Savannah, GA
Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

No vacation is complete without trying the amazing local cuisine. There were two places that I ate during my trip that are definitely worth mentioning; the first being Zunzi’s. A unique place located off York St. with a mixture of flavors and cultural influences from Swiss and Italian to South African and Dutch. It is a very popular place for the locals during lunchtime, with a line that sometimes winds around the block. My menu choice was the Conquistador sandwich: a baguette of French bread sliced open and stuffed full with grilled chicken, lettuce, tomato and Zunzi’s special sauce. It was a pretty incredible sandwich, so large that I had to eat it with a fork. I recommend this little shop to anyone who visits Savannah. And the locals will agree with me, you won’t be disappointed!

Zunzi's Conquistador sandwich.
Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

The second restaurant worth mentioning is a place called Moon River Brewing Company. Aside from the food, the building has an interesting history! It is said to be the most haunted building in the city; built in 1821, it use to be the City Hotel. It was Savannah’s first hotel. The building was used as a hotel up till 1864, when the Civil War caused it to close. It reopened at the turn of the century as a lumber and coal warehouse, and then in the 60’s it was turned into an office supply store. After a tragic accident that caused damage to the roof  the store closed in ’79 and remained vacant until 1995 when it was renovated to it’s current state as a pub. Moon River is Savannah's only brew pub and was ranked by BeerAdvocate.com as #28 in the “Top 50 American Brewpubs.” I did not try one of their famous beers, however, I did try their fried green tomatoes! This classic southern favorite featured delicious fried tomatoes that were layered with real blue crab salad and topped with cusabi (cucumber and wasabi) sauce. They were to die for!

       
Fried green tomatoes at Moon River Brewing Company
Alexandra Price Photography © 2013
Though it may seem a little strange, one of my favorite places that I visited in Savannah was the Colonial Park Cemetery! These historical gravestones are full of symbolism that you do not see very often, such as Masonic symbols marking the graves of Freemasons. The current park is much smaller than the original graveyard, which actually extends beyond the gates and under the surrounding streets and buildings. Savannah is a city that is literally built on the dead! No wonder it is considered America's most haunted city! The cemetery was established 1750 and is the resting place of many historical figures including Buttonn Gwinnett, whose signature is on the Declaration of Independence. In addition to historical figures, the cemetery also holds more than 700 victims of the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1820. There are also men buried there who were killed in duels during Savannah’s “dueling era,” the first dueling death was in 1740. A number of these duels took place in the cemetery itself. On the 1815 headstone of James Wilde, it reads:
“He fell into a duel on the 16th of January, 1815, by the hand of a man who, a short time ago, would have been friendless, but for him. . . . By his untimely death the prop of a Mother’s age is broken: The hope and consolation of the Sisters is destroyed, the pride of Brothers humbled in the dust and a whole family, happy until then, overwhelmed with affliction.”

Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

Notice the square and compass Masonic symbol at the top tombstone, identifying that the deceased was a member of the Freemasons.
Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

Another  square and compass Masonic symbol on the first tombstone; the deceased was a Freemason
On the third you see a weeping willow, which is  sign for mourning. 

Alexandra Price Photography © 2013
I covered most of the highlights of my trip, however, much was left out. It was amazing being in such a beautiful city with such a rich history. Here are a few more photos from my trip and I hope you decide to visit Savannah sometime in the future and see the beauty for yourself!
Hope you enjoyed my Half Price Words!
Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

Alexandra Price Photography © 2013

Alexandra Price Photography © 2013
References: 
http://www.moonriverbrewing.com/
http://www.graveaddiction.com/symbol.html
http://zunzis.com/about/
http://www.visit-historic-savannah.com/colonial-park-cemetery.html
http://ghosttoursinsavannah.com/2012/10/25/ghosts-at-bradleys-lock-and-key/