I remember her in elementary school....bright, curious, always wanting to learn more. She looked to me for answers and I tried to keep up with her ever expanding brain.
I remember her excitedly coming home from the first day of school and
every day thereafter with stories to tell about her day. From the very
minute she got there to the bus ride home she absorbed it all like the
little sponge she was, always eager to share each of those moments with
me. She delighted me, enchanted me, filled me with joy that God had
blessed me with her very existence.
I remember her in my heart...the love, the bond we always shared to the
exclusion of anyone else, my pride in her accomplishments, looking
towards the future and knowing that it was wide open to anything she
reached for, anything she desired, anything at all.
Sometimes,
while skipping down that yellow brick road, a choice must be made.
Whether it's a conscious decision or not, a choice is made to take the
scenic route instead of the path that's been thought and dreamed about
for years. Sometimes.....that's just what happens in life. The bubbly
little girl takes a few wrong turns, maybe gets lost in the brambles,
weeds and overgrown forest and eventually, thankfully, is found again.
As she once again purposefully marches down the chosen path towards her
goals, dreams and her bright, bright future, out of the corner of her
eye, she glimpses a flower filled meadow and decides to take just a
minute, only the briefest of moments to lie down to rest amidst the
blooms. As the sun shines brightly. gentle breezes soothing her soul,
the flowers' glorious scents intermingle bringing joy that begs to be
shared with another. As they romp and play within their private
playground, they fail to see the first little black rain cloud heading
their way, ignore the quickening of the wind, it's voice engulfing them,
swirling amongst them....trying and ever trying to warn them of the
coming storm.
The Wind Is Silent Now...
Thunder crashed and lightening flashed. The blooms tucked their delicate heads, leaving their tender necks exposed. The wind, louder and louder, it's terrible power screeching out warnings, now adds leaves, twigs and dust to the cast, beating the two, demanding to be heard. The wind begins to laugh, the clouds skitter and fly across the sky in their gaiety, the lightening and thunder boom out their mirth displaying their true nature. The precious petals blacken, wither and fall. The two, startled, awaken, are suddenly and without warning, shaken violently from their bliss. The meadow, once so beautiful to the eye, so glorious to the heart, reverts to what it ever was. Unseen, hidden beneath the beauty, it's true face is revealed to the two. As before in time, as ever has been and ever will be, the exhilarating beauty is stripped away, once again only a facade, hiding the truth of this place. The two, confused and conflicted, spin away from each other, grasping for understanding, gasping in shock, reeling with disbelief. How can this be, they ask each other? Why us? They demand an answer from the wind, but the wind, having tried so desperately to convey it's warnings, is silent now refusing to answer. She screams to the sky.....But I was marching along my path, purposely and with conviction, (she adds), forgetting her decision to rest in the beautiful meadow for only the briefest of moments, forgetting that detour that lured her away from her march. Forgetting.....the beauty they experienced, the joy they created, now focused solely on regret and shame. Heads down, shoulders slumped, sniffling, they shuffle slowly down the new path before them.
Our Love...
As the two take their first tentative steps down their new path, let's turn our attention momentarily to those who love them. Those who have marvelled over their first words, cheered their first steps, wiped tears and bottoms, now find themselves floundering in the aftermath of the storm. As the wind whipped the two, those who love them, entered the fray, using their weapons of warmth and love in an attempt to shelter them from the raging storm. Their embrace, so successful in protecting them once, fails to conquer the wind. Their kisses cannot heal these wounds. The lion stumbles, then falls in defeat. Her mighty heart, slashed into bits, lies upon the memory of what could of been..
Quit Looking At Me...
It starts with just the slightest glance out of the corner of an eye, first one, then the other, then just as quickly, their eyes dart away, looking at anything but each other. They stumble along their new path, together, but not, very separate even though the path is narrow and their arms about touch. Trees along each side of the path crowd and push them together, but they aren't yet ready, the wall between them, unseen, is too thick. The wind has nothing to say now and has gone off to play elsewhere. The forest is too dense to glimpse any flowers, any beauty at all. Infinite darkness surrounds them, they are blind, but must continue lurching forward, as going back to the beautiful meadow, is not an option. One stumbles, the other, involuntarily, reaches out, but is burned and jumps back. In the midst of the inky blackness, sparks fly as the two rage. On and on they tear at each other, banging heads against trees, the ground, each other. Exhausted, their mighty hearts, slashed into bits, lie upon the memory of what could of been.. Unable to come together to accept their new path and move forward, they turn their backs to each other and mourn alone.
The Sun Is Waiting...
The two...battered and beaten, lie within the dark forest, overwhelmed with raging, swirling thoughts. What might have been, what will be missed, each blaming the other, each belting the other with their rage, each blasting the other with their hatred of the other and of the situation they have blundered into, not blindly, but without forethought either. They can't stay in this place, can't simply wish it away, can't, can't, can't, no amount of begging, pleading, wishing or praying will undo what the storm has wrought. So very weak, the wind pushes and buffets them and they stumble slowly forward, crawling, neither able to gather the strength to rise up, neither able to raise their head to see the small glint of sunshine ahead of them, beckoning them, it's sunshiny smile waiting, still waiting, to embrace them in it's warmth and love. But the glint is unseen by the two, darkness still owns them, is still deeply inside them, around them, in every pore, every breath. The sun ever patient waits, knowing it and only it can battle back the darkness.
May We Come In?
Squirrels chattered, perched on the highest limbs, leaves drifted down slowly in the soft, warm breeze, sunlight danced in the small puddles left behind by the recent storm as others stood in the forest just off the path. Within sight of the two, but standing outside the maelstrom that consumed them, their arms outstretched to enfold, their faces contorted with concern, love, sorrow, they waited, desperately wanting to soothe, but unseen, unheard, merely part of the background. As crows roused from their boughs over head, they squawk and cry at each other as the mammoth wall built between them and the two is too high, too strong, too impenetrable, for even the loudest shouts to be heard, whispers floating away with the breeze. They wait for even the tiniest crack in the armament, they search in vain for the long lost key to the padlock that will release the chains, they bloody their knuckles pounding against the tall black door. The very essence of them demands to be heard, then begs (no pleads) to console, they cry, sobbing uncontrollably until there is no sound left in them, until they fall, exhausted, numbly to the ground. The wall, as impenetrable as ever, the tall black door firmly locked with chains and a padlock, they must wait, hoping the two will open the door and ask them in.
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