The walls of the room circled around her on three sides, holding her quietly like a nest might hold a newborn dove. The wall across from her bed was straight and cut through with four arched windows, each open to the world outside, letting in the afternoon light that danced across the limestone walls. The windows were cut deeply into the stone, creating a ledge that was filled with pillows, perfect to sit in. She slowly rose and walked to the windows, gazing out into the world. Yes, she thought, there is the garden, full of flowering bushes and trees. She somehow knew that she would be able to walk there, safely in the morning, whenever that came.
And then, without warning, her ears were filled with the sounds of birds singing and speaking to each other. She was startled and raised her hands and covered her ears. In a few moments she slowly lowered her hands and let the music of the garden fill her body. The world was full of sound and color, and she wondered if it could become more beautiful. And that is when she remembered to inhale, and the scent of fruit and flowers filled her. She reached for the window seat and hurriedly sat down, almost slipping to the floor, so overpowering were the colors, echoes, and aromas that filled her senses. She sat for what might have been hours, celebrating being awake and aware in this sacred place.
Eventually, though time had no meaning in this place, the light dimmed, and she rose and stretched again, in part just because she could. Why not enjoy every moment of being alive in a beautiful body, she thought. She slowly twirled, as if dancing, and rubbed her arms. The feeling was both evocative and comforting, and made her realize that the room was cooling off and her skin was cold. She looked around the room and saw there was more to explore, two openings leading somewhere and an armoire near the bed. She swayed towards the armoire and opened the doors, blinking at the colors of the clothes inside. She reached in and felt the different robes made of silk or linen, or wool, all designed for her. She pulled out an undyed raw silk robe, still feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations flooding her, and wrapped it around her naked body.
And now, for the first time in decades, she felt hungry. The wine and bread seemed perfect. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to light the matches that had been left next to the candles, and laughed when one burst into flame. She quickly lit the candles as the light from the garden continued to fade. She thought there was something she should say, but she could not form words, so she willed her feelings of gratitude to flow into the room and around the candles, the sweet wine, and the buttery soft bread.
She picked up the bread and wine and carried them to one of the windows, and curled up in the pillows on the window seat. A single word echoed in her mind as she sat warm, safe, and satiated. “Exhale.” That and nothing else, like a half-forgotten memory.