ELTHAM HIGH SCHOOL ANTHOLOGY   

Today was said to be almost the coldest summer day in Melbourne for 7 years or something, so I found that I wasn’t as drained of energy from the sun. I decided to go for a walk with my Border Collie when I got home from work at around 8:30. The sun was almost set, however I could not see the sun past all the houses and hills of the suburb.

Out the driveway, down the hill, left, right.

At this time of day there were no cars on the streets, so I didn’t need to keep my dog on a leash, but of course he had to leave his mark on every second tree, sign or bush, so I had to wait for him anyway. On this particular street there were fewer trees, so I could look up at the sky. The moon was glowing in the navy background, without any of his friends because it was not dark enough yet.

Left.

It looked like the sky was at war. On one side were those dark grey clouds that look like the rain is coming, but the wind was too light to bring any sort of storm. On the other was the darkening sky, more colourful than the clouds it bordered, but not necessarily lighter.

Stop.

I had gone too far. I’d forgotten that mum said I had to be back before it got too dark.

Turn.

My dog had found an interesting smelling car on the side of the street and was fixated on one of the front wheels. I whistled to him to get his attention and he snapped out of it.

Walk.

I looked back up at the moon and the clouds were starting to envelop it. It seemed like a deliberate attempt to swallow the moon, like the clouds stretched out for it. Perhaps there is more to this relationship than I know.

Right.

At this point I started to think about the darkness. People think that light is normal, and that the night shrouds our vision. I like to think that the darkness is the universe’s natural state, and that we are gifted light for a proportion of our day so we can see what is beautiful.

Left.

But tonight I realised that the twilight is just as beautiful. All I could see were silhouettes and streetlights, and a calm blue embracing the asphalt.

Right.

I was fortunate enough to walk directly under a possum crawling across a powerline. And surprisingly it did not scare from our close proximity. I felt so free, so I took my shoes off and ran, arms stretched out.

Up the hill.

This was the end of my short journey. However I was not disappointed it was over, because I had enjoyed the sensory experience while it lasted. I enjoyed the colours, and the lack of colours, the slight breeze, and the distant sounds of barking and screeching of tires.

In the driveway.

But most of all I think I was happy to have done it with my best friend at my side. This will be a memory I will always have of him. I wonder how many more we can make.