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passionflame
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Interests: life and all its mystery. friends and God. faith, hope, and love.
Expertise: thinking too much. writing as if the words I have to say are important. expression. life.
Message: message me
Member Since:
6/8/2004
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| That morning in October, I woke up and thought to myself, "What is the point of moving on?" Why struggle through each day fighting a nameless battle in a sea of ignorance when they don't care. They don't know. They aren't fighting, straining, dying, just to breathe without a momentary reason. A reason to live now. So I just laid there with my face staring at the ceiling, not wanting to move but just sink into the bed, through the mattress, and into some alternate universe where there weren't any sirens, fires, or tears... I just wanted to be around the people I loved the most.
It took a long time for me to feel at home again. Not in this crazy college town where too many blank faces pass by, but home where my family was. Where my best were. Where life had any sort of meaning. To come back from disappointing performance, continual exhaustion, and a state of mind of lost purpose, to slowly piece back the broken shards of my life. What do you say when everyone can only tell you "This is very not normal." When effort seems no more productive than kicking a bruise, how does one keep trying? The answer is home. Looking back, it seems as though I went into some sort of hibernation, covering my life with compassion and substance to heal my broken heart and open wounds.
It hasn't even been six months, but I can't say I'm the same person I used to be. The scars remain, but there is a determination to move forward. Only God could bless such incredible circumstances to happen after such harsh pain. Life does move on, even after the loss of 5 amazing people. Her family. And now, we are her family. Our small sacrifice for her great sacrifice. Home. | | |
| It was 2:13 AM when I suggested to her that we should take a walk. Two in the morning, when nobody was awake and nobody was out to see us wandering the neighborhood. I grabbed my phone and keys, and she got her glasses from her car parked on the side of the road. Then we left. With no destination in particular, we took off, walking and talking. Retreating from the stress and sadness that being at home represented. We were previously so stifled in the humidity of my bedroom that the cool air chilled my face, cleansing my skin with openness. The moon was round and shining brightly and the air was calm and perfect, inviting us to bask in its lonesome glow. Turning past the stop sign and on down the street, a school playground glinted in the moonlight. The black asphalt stretched out over the space and memories of four square and hopscotch flooded back to me. The tether pole reminded me of how tainted my mind had become... in the innocence of this yard, I felt as if i were 8 again.
As we walked past the slides and monkey bars, I slid my fingers over the metal, wet with evening condensation. I could almost hear the excited screams and laughter of the happy ghosts of children playing on the well-used set. There was no pang of remorse for growing up, no guilt for having left it behind. I still had those memories, I still understood what it meant to be innocent and happy.
After walking past everything we wanted to, and talking aimlessly about life and happiness, we casually decided to head back. I was in no hurry to return to my life, and this pause in time was peaceful. We retraced our old steps along the sidewalk when "Wow..." softly escaped her lips. I stopped, looked behind me, and saw where she was pointing. The grass had millions of dew drops glistening around our feet. Each turn of a head showcased hundreds of dancing lights. I looked at her wide-eyed and said, "Amy, we're rich! We're surrounded by diamonds!" We both stood there for a moment, smiling in awe of the beauty and perfection God had blessed us with. Filled with peace and contentment, we walked back home in the middle of the lonely streets, on a quiet night, remembering our secret miracle. | | |
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