Dawn of Time

Dawn breathed in the brisk autumnal air, savoring the musky scent of damp earth composed with fallen leaves. Like the season, she too was in the autumn of her life. Her golden red hair, gleaming in the bright morning sun, was betrayed by wisps of white scattered throughout her thick mane.

Her gait was slow, allowing her to languor in the last vestiges of warmth the sun would hold but, for all the brightness of the sun, the wind was chilly. It made her appreciate the used coat and stocking cap she had gotten from the mission. She had gotten most of her clothing from there, though, much of it didn't fit her well nor matched, she didn't complain, was just having them enough. Whatever else she had was scrounged from waste bins or handed out to her from some kind-hearted souls she encountered. One woman in particular, saw to it that she had at least one hot meal a day for the past two weeks. She commented to Dawn of how much she had aged over that short period of time, noting more wrinkles and the whitening of her hair. Dawn stopped going there. However, today her route was already planned out.

She was approaching the school grounds and the children were just spilling out onto the playground for recess. The shouts and laughter of children rang through the air, reverberating off the close buildings. Swings creaked on long chains, the dull thudding of feet on seesaws as the ends rocked up and down. The raucous yells as the merry-go-round was whipped by sneakered feet into a wild spin. The sliding board already had a line at the ladder. There were the usual tag games being initiated, balls of all types were being tossed, and, of course, the skip roping. Dawn sang along quietly with the little voices to "Cinderella, dressed n yellow..." her heart skipping with each nimble jump the little pony tailed girl made so effortlessly. It seemed like only yesterday, that she had been invited to try her skills at this very game. Ah, the joy she felt when she managed to skip the rope with enough alacrity to make it through the full chant, the rope lightly slapping the pavement through twenty-three turns for the kisses she received by her "fella".

Dawn stood there at the high chain-linked fence, her fingers braced in the links, watching the free spirited youths with a rapt smile on her lips, as the wind swirled bright gold and red leaves around her thickening ankles. Closing her eyes, she imagined her youthful voice among theirs, laughing gleefully as the boys chased the girls about the play yard. Opening her eyes, turning opaquely blue with cataracts and dimming her sight somewhat, she turned away from the scene.

The days and months passed. It had gotten harder and harder over each passing year to find a safe and comfortable resting place to winter out the twilight of her life. There she would rest until the coming of spring. The populace of man, having grown to millions of times more since she had first begun her season-to-season life so many centuries ago, had made it difficult to find a suitably secluded place to begin her metamorphosis.

This year, Dawn had found sanctuary in a storm drain that spilled into the waterway of the city. It stank of sewage at times, was more than a little damp, but was out of the worse of the elements that arrival of winter posed. Hunched over, she arranged discarded cardboard into a bed of sorts. Her gnarled fingers aching painfully, she pulled a blanket on top of them. Gingerly, all her joints screaming with her efforts, she laid herself down, pulling another blanket up over herself. Resting her white haired head upon her crooked arm, she closed her almost blind eyes.

At first, the metamorphosis was almost imperceptible. As the hours past, her frail body shrank until it was approximately the size of a softball, nestled like a precious egg within the wool blanket. She would sleep now, until the crocuses pushed their purple heads from the ground and the first robin pulled a fat worm from its hiding place beneath the lush renewed earth.

Dawn would be reborn an infant in that springtime event. In weeks, she would be old enough to venture out and live her life as a child amongst the people. Living, learning and loving each new day as she went. By summer, she will have reached adulthood, going about her way, un-acknowledged by those around her, with the exception of a few good-hearted souls. By autumn, in the throes of middle age, she would again appear at the schoolyard fence to watch the children in their exuberant play. As winter approaches, she would desperately seek her hidey-hole until the renewal of spring, to begin the cycle anew.