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Day 39 SOLD
Size: 16 x 20 inches
Oil on linen
Can be purchased framed, price upon request.
To purchase, email, text, or call 205.602.7030.
1/2 due to hold the purchase. Balance when painting is received after August 31. Can be safely shipped, cost to be determined.
Day 39/50 • "Fiction Friday"
For those who are interested, I read this story in today's video. Plus, you'll get to see Boone! : )
Of all the things he’d have to consider now, of all the things he should be thinking about, it was the little town in Switzerland that took him away from what was being said. Not just the sight of the mountains or flowers or even the sound of those bells forever hanging from the necks of cows, it was the air he felt. Dane stole away from the moment and found himself on the deck of that fancy hotel. His legs were propped on the empty chair across from him and the scarf he’d been given was wrapped around his neck.
The words kept coming out of his friend’s mouth, but Dane had stopped listening. They washed over him like water from a summertime hose. Hot at first. Until it ran cold.
Instead, he was in Switzerland feeling the air. As if the mountains everyone was there to gawk at had risen so fast and pushed into the sky so far that the air had been changed into something different. Something that, when you climb up to the waist of those mountains, holds you tight. Air that, no matter what you bring to the peek’s view, bathes your heart of anything that’s off.
The noise in his ears only had meaning if he listened. So Dane stayed on the deck.
He drank the beer and zipped his jacket tighter. A nearby woman took photos while her husband ate cold french fries. A family filled a larger table with stories about the day’s hike and whether it would rain tomorrow. The attractive daughter laughed at any given chance while her brother tore between his phone and the soft pats of his father. And the village rooftops scattered below them all, jumping-off points to leap into the arms of those mountains.
Back with his friend who hadn’t noticed he’d been gone, the Swiss air continued to do its thing. It held him. It bathed his heart and his friend’s words.
Dane turned to thank her for whatever had been said. It didn’t matter anymore. And he walked down the slippery slope to the pool. He sat with his feet over the edge and let the setting sun wash over him. Hot at first.
Then he slipped into the water and let it hold him. He let it bathe him of all that was off.