Gingerpithicus Frisii

The Gazebo

In my mind, I found a wall. It was an old wall made of old bricks, covered by a tangle of winter-dormant vines. I stepped up to it, peered closely at the bricks, and noticed that each one had something written on it. A brick here that said, “You told your best friend to ‘fuck off’, and she disappeared on you, and it was your fault. Never again show your neediness.” There was another one that said, “You showed your true anger to your wife, she kicked you out of your home, and it was your fault. Bury your anger even deeper and never, ever show it again.” There was a tangle of barbed wire atop the wall, barring visitors from what lay inside.

I cleared some of the vines and weeds from it, placed a ladder against the wall, and climbed. On the other side, I saw a gazebo- not the mass-produced McGazebo type, but the kind where you knew someone had designed it with depth and built it with care. It had an old soul quality to it. It was beautiful. It had an air of permanence to it that was immediately evident. The architectural details were exquisite, and though it was silver and brown, weathered by neglect and age, I knew that someone still cared for it deeply. I knew I cared about it. 

From the top of the wall, I looked down at the gazebo and saw colors flickering from inside, rainbows escaping through the windows, bright as sunlight. I went over the wall, dropping into the weeds and vines on the other side. 

I went up to the gazebo and went inside, dust swirling in the light thrown from whatever was inside.

It was an orb of glass sitting atop a pedestal in the middle of the gazebo. It was throwing cascades of color into the room and bleeding through the windows. Whatever this was, it was important. When I picked the orb up, there was an immense gravity to it, a heft belied by its appearance. It drew itself into itself by sheer mass. It was dense. 

Suddenly, I knew what it was I held in my hands- it was my love. 

Why was it there, though? Why would such a beautiful thing be kept in an old, weathered gazebo? Why hide it away? I looked at it more closely, and I could see small cracks along the orb’s surface. It had been broken before- many times, from the look of it. The gazebo seemed to be there to shelter it. The brick wall to protect it. 

I went back outside to the wall and examined more bricks. A few at the bottom of the wall were larger than the others. They seemed foundational. I knelt in the vines and looked closely at one of them. It said, “I will never be like him.” Another said, “She will never hit me again,” and yet another said, “I will not allow him to hit my brothers anymore.”

    I remembered, then, how the wall got there. The stories behind how the gazebo holding the orb was cut off from the world. I remembered all of the bricks and how they became part of the wall. Why the wall went up in the first place. 

    I stood up and looked at it, pondering. I began to wonder if the wall needed to be there anymore. The orb was safe now, after all. It was healthy, throwing cascades of color and light in all directions. The orb needed the wall at one point, but no more.

I remember thinking that it was time to take it down.

So I grabbed the first brick, one lying atop the wall, fresh and the color of new coral. The vines hadn’t touched it yet. It said on it, “Juniper read my journal and saw how truly angry I was. I was made homeless because of my anger.” I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with it. Then, I bent down and laid the brick in the gravel surrounding the gazebo. I looked at the next brick, a little older this time, and it said on it, “Your only friend was killed. Anyone can be taken from you at any moment.” I took that one, too, and laid it next to the first. I dismantled the entire wall, keeping the messages intact but burying them as I built a patio around them. Their messages were still there, but hidden now- they’d lost their bite, their sting. They held much less power over me now.

I finished the patio and stood back to admire my handiwork. 

“Hello?” A voice came from behind me. It was my best friend. I invited her onto the patio and put the water on to boil.