Walking on Water by Liz Strauss SAMPLE PAGES

stopped the car, turned off the ignition, and just stared for a while. I
grabbed my leather journal and went to find myself.
An old wooden crate sat there in the perfect spot to watch the sun and
write. How it happened to be the only one and just my size, I’m not
about to question. I sat down and pulled up the world.
It’s nice to have the world in front of me
instead of on my shoulders.
It’s hard to see how lovely the planet is
when you bear the weight of it.

I wrote that in my journal as I watched the sunset.
I thought of the ways I weigh myself down with heavy thoughts and
drama. It’s like covering me with so much oil. I shook off that greasy
thought and set aside my journal.
I watched the sky change color—glorious tints of blues and grays and
lavenders moving back from pinks and oranges and yellows. I felt so
much room for me. I wished I could bring people here every time they
asked what art meant, . . . or simplicity, . . . or elegance, . . . or peace.
Yeah peace. Peace backlit with joy.
Now, that’s a definition of elegant simplicity.
The sunset sent a beam across the water home to me. That image of a
trail of light brought my day’s journey back to mind. I had left home
8
©2008 Liz Strauss All rights reserved


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