Flash Fiction Friday – The Painting

Flash Fiction

I read my book, unable to fall asleep in the guest bed. Vacationing far from home always managed to find me sleepless in a strange bed. I should really be in dreamland now, but I couldn’t make my mind slow down. The day replayed itself in my head – things I had said and done that shouldn’t have been said or done. Opportunities missed. Love misplaced. Times I should have relaxed, like now, spent worrying over petty things.

As I turned towards the wall, I noticed a painting hung above the bed. It had gone unnoticed by me before now and seemed to be an after thought in the room. It was simple, yet more refined then the other artwork. I considered its subject matter – a tree by a road, next to a field and, in the distance, a mountain range. I realized it was very much like my childhood home.

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I turned back to my book, but noticed that I read less and less and stared at the painting more and more. Peace descended on me as I continued to take in every aspect of the work. The tree line was reminiscent of a place near my parent’s home, the mountain range a perfect replica of the hills there too.

I could almost feel the breeze upon my skin, the smell of cow pastures in the distance and the feel of my parent’s front porch rocker beneath my butt. Transported, again that sense of peace came over me. I drifted in and out of the painting, eventually seeing myself walking down the road and looking across the field to our neighbor’s home.

I wonder when ol’ Miss Lilley will drive by today? I haven’t seen her in some time. Maybe I should stop by and check on her? Come to think of it, there hasn’t been any cars down this road in awhile.

Shaking my head, I lay back on the pillow and contemplated my sanity. I was several hundred miles away from that stretch of road! But my eyes again wandered to the painting and the peace that awaited me there. How I longed to sit on the porch and watch the world, or lack thereof, go by.

I turned back to my book, and the lumpy bed, with a sigh – the longing to get back there as soon as I could tugging at my soul. Drifting off to sleep finally, I dreamed of gold colored fields and blue tinted mountains and a porch with a lone rocker… waiting for me.

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