(This is a small insert in Fragments of Fiction)
I don’t like change. Never have. My mother used to tell me that I shouldn’t be so rigid, that I should just let go and roll with things. It is a nice sentiment, but it is not me. I am more like the Oak tree from my parent’s backyard. Solid, stable, unyielding and somewhat forbidding.
Ok, the forbidding part might be a bit of an exaggeration. I like to think that I have a look that can make your heart stop, but as of yet I am not so sure that it is true. But the rest is true. I am solid. I am stable and somewhat unyielding…in a good way.
If you could see inside my head, if you could peer inside my mind and see how and what I see you might understand. Long stretches of desert punctuated by distant mountaintops. The desert is a symbol of the lonely guy that lives inside. He is not empty or shallow, there a depth to him.
Days are filled with exceptional heat and the nights with deep cold. The place looks a bit dead but if you look hard enough you can see signs of life. There may not be a single road to the mountain, but there are any number of trails that can be taken.
I know, it is an overly dramatic image, but what can I do. We all want to be understood. We all want someone to be able to look at us and understand who we are. So I cannot help but try to show her. She took my heart, or did I give it away. I can’t quite remember anymore.
What I know is that when she smiles at me I feel the warmth of the sun on my back and my load is lightened. For a long time there was nothing but sunshine between us. In my heart I knew that the dark moments would come but I never believed how hard they would be. It never occurred to me to think that the highs would be matched by such lows.
I suppose that it makes sense for this to be, but it has been a challenge. At times the pain has been…exceptional. Angst filled moments of anguish interspersed with cries of rage and the occasional tear.
But because I am a dreamer I always retreat into my imagination. I seek solace there. I picture myself as a sailor whose lost his way at sea. The compass is gone and the cloud filled skies make it impossible to rely upon the stars for guidance.
So I do what all sailors must…I sail. Each day I go through the regular routine and attempt to handle my chores without exception. It is not always easy. Sometimes I find myself wishing for a rogue wave, but those are few and far between.
One day the sun will break through the clouds and I’ll see signs of land. That is the hope and the dream. Until then I bow my head and pray to whomever and whatever will accept my wishes. This storm will end and life will change…again
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