Green Grass

"Do you remember when we were always coming this way?" I ask, glancing to my left at Tommy. He nods in response.

We are standing on a sidewalk, lined on one side by concrete and on the other by green grass. How couldn't he remember the numerous times spent here? All that is missing today is Elizabeth, but even when she was with us, Elizabeth was still missing, in a sense. Now, instead, we are joined by Antony, who is almost resplendent in his appreciation and awareness of what it means to be alive. I take a step into the grass and revel in the springy feel of it; it has been too long. I start walking towards the trees.

"Well," I motion expectantly to the two still behind me, "are you coming, or what?"
Tommy walks forwards to my side gladly, Antony hesitating a moment before stepping into the soft earth and smiling as he trails a foot or so behind. He is gazing at everything as we walk through the slender, skyward-reaching trees. We reach the familiar fallen trunk soon, surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers.

I lean down and tug the laces of my shoes loose, deciding that barefoot is the only way to properly walk about this place. Leaving my footwear balanced on top of the horizontal tree, I wade through a sea of tall, swaying grass, moved by the gentlest breeze. Antony is wandering slowly and dazedly, taking into his sights the purity and beauty held in the sparsely-leaved tree branches against a darkening sky. I gesture for Tommy-- who is leaning casually against a tree, just observing-- to come and join me.

"I can keep my shoes on though, can't I?" he teases, looking down at my bare feet.

"You can, I suppose, but let me tell you; you are missing out," is my response. The look he gives tells me he is sceptical of this, but he follows nonetheless when I put a hand around his wrist and tug him after me.

"What are you--?" he begins.

"Shh, just wait. Patience." I pull him along further, shouting, "Antony! Come on, where did you go?" He responds, appearing from the trees to my right with a grin. I beckon to them both and walk onwards.

We arrive at last at the top of a shallow, stretching slope-- overgrown plants reaching as far as a shrouded and distant line of treed area, almost indistinguishable with distance. The gold late-afternoon light illuminates each blade of grass in bold relief. I hear a sharp intake of breath from my left, and I look at Tommy.

"Why did we never come this far?"

"I guess we were boxed in. It never occurred to me to keep going until recently, and I couldn't stop walking," I reply, with a casual shrug of the shoulders.

"It's beautiful here," comes Antony's whispered reaction, "I wish I could live like this."

I give him a light shove, and say with a slight smile, "don't whisper here; it's time for outside voices. We're too far for anybody to even hear us." He steps away from us, walking quickly.

Suddenly he stops, whipping around with a grin before turning back around and facing the endless night.

"This is my outdoor voice!" he shouts after an enormous preparatory breath. Facing us once more, he says in wonder, "I've never spoken so loud before. How crazy is that? I always could, but never did." Tommy lets out one of his rare genuine laughs.

"Imagine what the regular citizens would think of us," he laughs again, "They'd think we're insane out here."

Slinging an arm around my old friend and smiling at Antony, I pause before speaking, "Oh, but aren't we? Wouldn't we have to be? It's fine by me though, if insanity is this good."

On that note, I break free of Tommy, walking to stand beside Antony at the top of the incline. I mimic him, taking a large, over-exaggerated breath, expelling it in a joyous cry to the stretching shadows, "freedom!" I shout, extending the last syllable dramatically with my arms raised outwards. "Come on Tommy, it's your turn now!"

He steps up beside me, and the three of us stand in silence a moment, gazing down the wildflower-clad slope and trying to take in the gravity of this situation. Here we stand: three mediocre citizens, unique only in the desire to be so, and driven only by the idea of that same individuality which we have never truly experienced. Tommy, after a time, inhales deeply and, louder than both Antony and I combined, cries "change is upon us!" He crumples, seated, onto the grass, as the echoes of his words disappear between the tall stalks of flowers and weeds. I take my own place beside him on the ground, leaning into his shoulder how I used to.

"Rachelle, I have to make them understand," he mumbles quietly, "they have to understand."

I place a comfortable hand on his arm, "we're going to try, Tommy, I swear."