Heliotropism: Sunf(ol)lower
A short story—an ode, really—inspired by the word "Heliotropism" meaning to follow the sun.
June Journals, Day 2! My gut reaction—first idea—to this word felt too obvious. But I ran with it, because just because it’s obvious doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.
I remember the first time I saw you.
It was dark. I’d been working my way along for—hours? Days? It may as well have been an eternity. I wasn’t afraid. The darkness was all I’d ever known—why be afraid? And it wasn’t an inherently scary place. It was warm and safe. The neighbors were kind, though they didn’t come around often. It was quiet. All sounds in the world were muffled. It wasn’t a bad place to be. But I could tell it wasn’t where I was supposed to stay. Can’t tell you how I knew. I just knew.
So I moved. Wormed my way. I guess, looking back now, I wormed my way upward. But again, I can’t tell you how I knew to go that way. I just knew. Or maybe I didn’t know to go up—I just knew to go out. And out meant everywhere. In every direction. Spreading, reaching, plunging, pushing through the warm dark.
And then—BAM. You hit me. Don’t try to be modest about it: running into you was like being ripped open at my seams, but not in a terrifying way—no, wait, yes, it was terrifying, but it was also exhilarating and the excitement I felt quickly eclipsed any feelings of trepidation. The darkness dissipated. The eradication was instantaneous.
But the warmth stayed. In fact, it intensified. Your tendrils seared and licked at my tender skin. Hot. I now know the meaning of the word. I felt you in every fiber and realized I had never known true satisfaction, true satiation. I had never known true hunger either. One sip of you and I was suddenly famished. The desire to be as close to you as possible, always, consumed me just as wholly as your light had swallowed the darkness.
I thought you would always be there. It made sense—just as the dark and warm had always been my reality, why would you, the greatest of replacements, provide a different kind of companionship? Steady, constant, present—that is what I expected of you.
You had other plans.
Just when I thought I could hold no more of you—though my determination—desperation—to continue to climb toward you never wavered—you vanished. You sank from view. The world became dark once more, and cold this time. I confess, I felt betrayed. Abandoned. Fragile and alone.
Your absence forced me to look around. I realized I was not the only one vying for your waves, your affection, your nourishment. Around me, dozens like me, deep brown, wreathed in golden glows, mimicked my own dance. The next time you appeared, we all felt it. The blanket laid over us began to change, the dew on our skin tasted differently, and then we all turned to the east to greet you.
I wonder does it amuse you, seeing us, a field of specks lifting our faces to you and following you from horizon to horizon? Our movement aligning with yours, it is barely perceptible, yet it is our everything. Somehow, I like to think, we are your everything too.
— khm —
See y’all tomorrow for June Journals, Day 3!
PS. Substack says y’all won’t read this if I don’t email it to you… So I thought I’d just email it to you. Let me know if you get annoyed by daily emails this June and I’ll… I don’t know. Figure something out :)