Drifting… Continued

It wasn’t always this way. There wasn’t always such a struggle… a continuous fight. It was her choice to be here in the first place. Her choice; her fault. She sighs, willing her muscles to relax. The battled against the wind exhausts her. Over exertion has caused a slight delirium, and she allows herself to break The Rule. Never think of the past. But in her tired state, she can hardly stop it from creeping in through the barriers around her mind.

Her thoughts drift to the warmer regions of her history, when life was so much simpler. Life was so much kinder. The warmth kept her safe from the dark howling winds that now taunt her with their every move. As her memories flood through her, her body shudders at their invasiveness. Her eyes sink deeper, closing out the menace beyond her door. Resting her head upon her arms, she allows herself to remember…

The smell of orange and clove wafts through the air. The record player hums a melody; a chirpy, upbeat tune that lifts the soul. Sunlight flutters in her vision encasing the faces of those around her. Their laughter bursts out in intervals interupting the music’s revolution about the room. Her face cracks into a grin and love bursts through her heart. These people. This place. It is almost too much goodness to stand. A familiar set of arms encircle her shoulders, and she leans into their solidness. Closing her eyes, she burns this moment into her memory. Burns it there to ensure it won’t be replaced. In this moment, she feels joy. She feels content.

Invading the stillness of the moment, a tear trickles its way down her cheek. Shaking her head from the vision, she wipes violently away at it, taking out her frustration at having broken The Rule. Snarling at herself, she tosses her head back against the door. The pain shakes loose any remnant of the memory grappling for a hold on her mind. The Rule is reinstated.

The baying of the wind coerces her to stand. She must press forward, must continue fighting it. To give into its taunts is to give up. She mustn’t give up. To give in is to admit that her choice was wrong. She mustn’t give in. Still leaning her weight upon the door, she closes her eyes once more, blinking away the moisture that threatens behind her lids. Here I go, she thinks to herself. Lifting herself, she draws up to her full height, sets her chin and walks on.


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