I don’t know if there was a path that led up to this place. There must have been, but in this recollection it is entirely self-contained, and an entrance or exit would be contrary and entirely against the completeness this small space has associated with it. I’m not even certain if it is real, but there is a striking image of someplace I now associate with my neighborhood as a boy in Columbus, Ohio. The space comes back to me in three colors: a golden yellow that is the late sun diffused through yellow vines with yellow leaves, this light soft on the red brick that made up the path, and the wrought-iron that composed the table and chairs placed on the bricks at the end of the path. There must have been flecks of green here and there as well. The space was a small enclosure, perhaps a chamber in a garden. There was a small path wide enough for one person to walk down, a typical path, and at the end of the path was a small, round enclosure. The path wasn’t very long, as the entirety of the enclosure could be seen from wherever this recollection begins, but I do remember that there was a pause between start and finish, and I believe that this was a pause more of awe than of distance. The use of the word enclosure is due to the fourth and most striking detail that this entire space was covered completely by an arch of vines, roof, and walls; as though a tunnel like structure had been built of wire allowing vines to completely grow over the tunnel. The vines themselves, as already stated, had mostly yellow leaves with some green here and there, and I want to say they were of the same type found in my back yard of which I do not know the name. The lighting was old and quiet, late in the afternoon. The iron table was small and round, just large enough for the two chairs on either side of it. I must have been a young child, as the chairs seem to relate themselves from a higher angle than I am used to seeing now. There was no one in the chairs. I have no clue as to their purpose or owners. I do not remember how I came to be in this place or where this vision ends. This could be a dream that I’ve mistaken as a memory or perhaps a scene from a movie I’ve adopted as my own experience. Either way, it is distant in time and strong in feeling.
(ar)
