Word: Escape

8/Feb/2013

     What does escape look like?

I admit I was rather disappointed when I typed escape into Google images. It came up with way too many pictures of the Ford Escape SUV. I had pictured something like a bird just spreading its wings to take off in flight; endless rows of green trees before you with leaves of brown, red, and orange laying down a faint path through the wood; a door open just enough to see the blurry colors that lay beyond or a few rays of light breaking in (in an Alice in Wonderland fashion); or even an old favorite novel with a cracked, ridged spine sitting invitingly in a cozy reading space.

     What does escape smell like?

For some, the smell of salt and a cool, fresh wind blowing off the water. For others, popcorn, setting up to relax and watch a good adventure movie. Since my escape is usually less of a physical adventure and more of a mental one, my escape smells like a book; not when you first open the cover and it is a little musty and possibly needs a dusting, but after I've curled up with a blanket and coffee, and can smell the smells of the scene. If it's Frankenstein, then it varies between burnt flesh and pine woods. In The Poisonwood Bible, there's the heat rising from the scorched earth. If I pause reading, and I'm sitting outside on my porch railing, leaning against the corner post, then I can raise my head and close my eyes and bring the real-world scents into my imagination.

     What does escape feel like?

Like every weight, every pain, every stress, and every worry has been lifted off and escaped itself. Like flight is possible. Like safety; not in a little hiding place that could still be found out and destroyed, but the ability to walk tall wherever your feet carry you and absorb every moment. Like breathing deeply, slowly, the freshest air. Like focusing inward and noticing the slightest heartbeat at the places where your skin is thin, the blush of warmth from your core out to every hair and fingertip and toe, and knowing you are alive.