The Many Lives of Amanda

The gatherer

I wake up. The sun is filtering through the leaves, overlaying on my cheeks. The birds have been singing for hours. I breathe in and smell the pine freshness of the air. I roll over gently, savoring the moment and the slow, morning warmth.

The builder

My mind races ahead to the many worlds unfurling in front of me. It places pieces, moves them around, tries out patterns and watches the cascading effects. Faster, we are always moving faster. Tumbling, controlled, catching each other, our legs running over rocks in rhythm. Everything blurs in the background of the one pathway we are running over at breakneck speed.

The writer

The ocean crashes gently as I cradle my coffee. Thoughts swirl in my mind, forming and unforming, machines constructed and run in subconscious seconds. Chewing, my mind pours over the granules of an idea, looking for footholds. Worlds pour out of my fingers for others to inhabit, filled with wonder.

The wanderer

The grass is damp under my bare feet. I scan for trees to tie my hammock between. The sun is beginning to set, and their laughter is loud as they set up a campfire. Someone begins strumming a guitar. A quiet, low voice weaves amongst the trees. Tomorrow, I will see new faces around new fires. Today, the light dances over their eyes, uncovering, fleetingly, all the worlds they have seen.

The movement builder

People brush past me, purposeful, voices calling out across streets. I clap my hands in delight. “Where should this one go?” someone pants at me, the corner of a heavy table supported by their stooping shoulder. “Over there!” I cry. “What should I do with the pamphlets that just arrived?” someone runs to ask. “Ah, perfect, leave them here,” I say gratefully. Colorful flags raise up on every corner. Something is beginning. 

The healer

I hold her eyes, softly, gently, a pillow of love for her to unwind into. The lines around her eyes and mouth begin to fade, her breath deepens. Remember how deeply you are loved, my gaze tells her.

The traveler

I sip coffee, staring out at the river and the streams of people passing by. My backpack sits at my feet, journal open in front of me. Soles weary from many footsteps, I listen to the chatter and wonder at the lives of each passing person – the woman with designer sunglasses and a purposeful stride; the man in jeans with a waddling dog. The keys for my hostel room press against my leg.