The darkness was beyond all darkness; pitchy tar, so dark that eventually pinpricks and flashes of light appeared within it like mere memory of such things.
Black isn’t the absence of color; it’s the combination of them all.If you mix all the colors using pigments, you get black. She knew that from her art classes in the library with her brother and sister once upon a time.
In its purest form, color is light. If you combine all the colors of light in the spectrum of a rainbow, you get white light. Against the blackness, she could see that now.
The silence was so deep that echoes of once-sounds seemed to rebound in its contrarily thick hollowness.
Light is sound. Sound is light. That mattered somehow. She couldn’t remember why.
Nothing was always something and around her it was taking form. Phantom touches felt like an etheric wind blowing through her… not something apart, but something somehow a part of her.
Somewhere apart and within, she found memories… the muggy heat of late afternoon, the Spanish moss hanging in long soft curtains from the drowsing trees, a heat shimmer over the wheat field. With Mama and Caroline, she pulled closed the shutters, bathing the parlor in sleepy twilight, a shade to cut the heat a little. Mama lit the lamp on the low table amid our settees and out came the game boxes, books, or needle point and papa, with a smile, would cede them their space.
“Ah. Ladies pantaloon time I see. I’ll leave you to it.”
Giggling as the door closed on him, they would all indeed strip away the cumbersome and stifling petticoats and corsets, tossing them in a pile of heavy constraints, leaving only their lightweight pantaloons and chemises. They would then pour cool water into the basin from the ewer and wash away their sticky “radiance” as Mama called it, celebrant of the coolness of the slight air movement caressing bare skin. Blissful Freedom! Well, of a sort at least.
At supper downstairs after one such “Ladies Pantaloon Time” she’d commented aloud how much she’d like to ride horseback that way.
Mama had choked on her tea.
Daddy had dropped fork with a loudly disapproving CLANG.