How Strong is Strong Enough?
A Short Story
She walked into her new apartment gingerly. Opening the door she noticed the clock on the wall… 10 pm. The house was deafeningly silent. Almost like time had been crucified over the hands of the clock. The walls bore witness to this and stood still, as if in a spell. The only stirring came from a far corner of the house. There lay seven neatly packed cartons and suitcases. Her belongings, they stood bursting with stories in a corner. Those which had traveled a long journey over the Atlantic to reach here to a new country, a new home, a new beginning… way before she did. As if in anticipation of a new lease on life.
There were treasures so rare inside that she was afraid removing them would damage their significance. She sat staring at them. “Where should I begin, why can’t I just let go,” she said helplessly. Overwhelmed, it was as though someone had pulled the lid off a reservoir of memories.
She meticulously hung up her clothes. Among them she found a dress she had worn the last time she met him. It still lingered with his scent when they had hugged goodbye. “Get over it! Now, please! He is married! You deserve better. It cannot be. It was just not meant to be. You did the right thing.” She said out loud. As she rummaged through her handbags, she found old receipts and left over change inside pockets from lunch at their favorite restaurant. In others there were crumpled grocery lists of many weekend get-together’s with common friends. There were flip flops which were still sand dusted. They told many a story of footsteps walked and footprints left behind. Bag after bag, trinkets collected together, artifacts bought together, books read together all had their own unique sentiments attached to them.
Among them, neatly tucked away was a note which read, “A lifetime would not be enough to tell you what you mean to me, all I can say is you take with you all the mad mornings, those lazy afternoons, all the chilled out evenings of just you and I, when the moon stood close by.” She could read no more through the glaze in her eyes. She quickly folded the paper and placed it with other jewelry in a carved wooden box.
She let out a deep sigh as she leaned over a cushion. It was just the shoulder she needed. She surrendered to the wave of emotion within as she wept out loud. Her tears, like a tsunami, destroyed the weave of the fabric. Weighed down, she reached over to her phone. As she dialed in on a friend, she just knew that regardless of the odd hour, the call would be answered and she would be heard. As she poured her isolated heart out, the walls shook as though resonating with her spirit.
Eventually having vented, she walked out onto the porch for a breath of fresh air and took a deep breath. It felt good. She sat there in the dark for a while until she was ready to witness the rise of a new dawn.
There was an intense calm around her as she stepped back in. Peacefully, she brought out her choicest candles and lit several of them all around her. The shadows of their bright yellow flames cast a spell on the walls. Or broke it?! She really couldn’t tell. For in that moment the walls came alive with magical serenity as they took their first breath of redemption.
In that moment, a new sun rose.
Notes from my desk: Being strong and brave are important qualities of character. Being strong and brave includes being vulnerable though.
Being vulnerable is an integral part of being human. Face it. Embrace it. Bottling emotions is harmful for the mind, body and soul. Allow yourself to feel emotion. And gather the courage to show it. Allow yourself to occasionally let go and let it out. Cry. Scream into a pillow if you like. Or share with a loved one.
Today she chose to do all three.
