MYRA MEYER Third Place Salveson Prize in Prose
The Beholder Monotony The walking was monotonous, but in the way that sleeping or breathing is monotonous. Walking was more of a therapy for us. We were soothed with the constant feeling of boots pressing into the earth. This consistency balanced just right with the ever-changing scenes of nature surrounding us. The birds whistled, and the trees danced, and we kept patting our feet on the ground. We kept the mood light with our friendly chatter as we exchanged riddles. If there is a bee in my hand, what’s in my eye? And upon tiring of riddles, we sang songs to quench any boredom. The birdsong was prettier than any of us could do, but we sang anyway as we trudged through nature. It wasn’t until later, lying in my sleeping bag, that I finally understood the riddle: Beauty is in the eye of the bee-holder. Beauty The stars tell stories. I have always liked to stretch myself out under the stars. Their vastness makes me feel insignificant, but I don’t care. I simply like to marvel at the complexity of the universe. I pride myself on being able to find the few constellations
Some people are just like poor Cassiopeia: doomed to spend their lives upside down, but they never realize it.
that I know, and I never hesitate to share their stories with whomever I am with. “Do you see Cassiopeia? She’s over there; the one that looks like a sideways ‘w’. She was placed upside down in the sky. Do you want to know why?” Nobody cares as much as I do, but I don’t mind because that’s just the way that people are sometimes. Some people are just like poor Cassiopeia: doomed to spend their lives upside down, but they never realize it. And while those foolish people are staring at the bright light in front of them, I am looking to the bright lights above.
SALVESON PRIZE IN PROSE
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