I have been thinking lately about the stories we tell ourselves and each other about our lives, the impact we leave behind with each story and it’s ripple effect. In the end, it is what we all are- a story somewhere to someone. In the spirit of story-telling here is the beginning of one from me to you. Enjoy.
A place down a street and up a hill is where you’ll find her. She escapes to the quiet, deserted end of a road that puts her above the only place she’s ever called home. She drives down the street and up the hill to the crest, watching in her rearview mirror the lights get brighter against the black back drop of a starless night. Who needs stars when you have a city made of gold. She pulls over on the side of road, shuts the engine almost all the way off- leaving only enough energy to power the stereo, climbs out and sits on the hood waiting for the music to begin. She comes here to escape the noise of the city, to be as far away as possible, cloaked in darkness with nothing but her mind and music and the beautiful golden light. When you’re in the thick of it, you can’t see just how much beauty there is, that’s the funny thing about life.
Her mind drifts back to countless other times she’d been to this place- what was different now? Oh yes, she was alone. This place where she’d fallen in love and forgotten to say it, the words dancing in the shadows on her tongue never quite making their appearance in the light. The time her heart broke into a million pieces and the pain so unbearable she couldn’t quite believe it belonged to her. This place held all of those memories and now it was time for something new. How can you begin to heal if you are stuck in the past position? This is the question begging for her attention.
To be continued…..