Epilogue

*Written June 5th, posted today

 

I stumbled across a video on Facebook today, on a wall I have not visited in well over a year. 

 

So much water has flowed under the bridge.

Journals have been filled, filed, and finally burned.

 

I’ve felt myself board up windows – and close off whole wings.

 

 

Not to preserve what was, or to forget what might have been – but to leave so that I may someday joyfully cross the threshold anew.

 

 

And so with distance and time the shore you sailed away from blurs, and the parts of yourself that you left behind there have faded.

 

 

Have you ever lay in a warm bed and dreaded touching a cold floor – only to have the floor not be as cold as you thought?

Did you even consider touching an electric fence – and felt the anticipation of the shock you would receive grow within you – and in finally touching it, find that you had anticipated a much larger jolt.

Or eaten something that looked horrible and turned out to taste wonderful?

 

 

 

 

 

That moment when you were expecting one thing and found another.

 

It takes your breath – and unexpected joy – a joy you thought aborted, and buried, can sometimes burst and flow freely.

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t know what to call it – it differs from closer, it’s more.

 

Maybe it’s healing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe it’s grace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Did you ever come to the end of a story and find that the author has left you holding a few loose threads?

 

Only to turn the page and find an epilogue?