“Do you believe in God?” he asked her.
She closed her hands tightly feeling the tips of her fingernails leave imprints in the center of her palms.
She breathed in heavily and sighed as if to evade the question by covering it in the carbon dioxide that left her body with each exhale of her breath.
That question, it lingered there, suspended in the air between them like a fog which failed to dissipate. It rolled, and bounced, and spun in place waiting for her to answer.
She wanted so badly for her answer to be a simple one. She wanted it to be a “yes” or a “no” but her words were nowhere to be found.
So, she did the only thing she could, and at that point needed to do.
She inhaled.
She inhaled deeply, causing her lungs to suck in that question which floated in a delicate cloud-like mass in in front of her. She felt the air travel down every bronchial in her body. The question traveled faster, finding comfort being pressed within the small tubular structures as that question made its way to her lungs.
Finally, it arrived.
In an instant she felt her answers hit her as her lungs filled with air and expanded her chest cavity causing her ribs to rise and fall, protecting her heart from her own vulnerable words which left her mouth.
I believe in sunshine.
I believe in the exhale of each breath
and the inhale of each passing moment.
I believe in the howling of the wind that causes my heart to pound and my head to race and dance with too many thoughts all at once.
I feel the way snow crunches under my feet as I imagine a cliff’s edge crumbling beneath me.
I believe in the vastness of the stars in a clear night’s sky and the moon’s power to either keep you up, or allow you to sleep comfortably at night.
I think that animals bring people happiness.
I believe that humans bring happiness to animals too.
I believe in the power of relationships.
The little things.
I believe in those too.
The way a lady bug navigates a blade of grass, the way a single petal falls delicately from a spring tree.
The way he looks at her when she smiles.
Those little things are in important.
She looked up for a moment.
“I guess that question feels too big for me to answer.”
Her lungs hurt as she had forgotten to breathe between sentences.
“I believe in the breath,” she said.
And “I believe in you,” he responded
With that they continued on down a path of crushed rock as snow fell lightly on the tops of their heads.
They inhaled, and exhaled together.
In that moment, nothing else really mattered.
~
Author: Anna Polovin
Editor: Katarina Tavčar
Photo: Pexels
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