Eyes open to a dreary summer’s day. Clouds cover the sky and a hint of rain is carried through the winds. A storm is definitely brewing. But that’s not the only gloomy image at play.
Inside a quiet house is a woman who awoke and saw the sunless skies. Her face showed no expression but her eyes revealed the truth.
The night before had been filled with turmoil. The enemy had used weaponry that blasted her walls apart. She had left for bed knowing that she had survived another day but only so that she can fight again. For no one had released her of the baggage that weighed heavily upon her shoulders.
Rolling out of bed, she sighs and slowly goes about her morning preparations for the day ahead. Walking by her full length mirror, she glances at the image. There is a frail woman with wrinkled skin, greying hair and pained eyes staring back following her every move.
Heaving forward, she continues her routine and makes herself a cup of tea. Maybe that’s what she needs, a cup of hot green tea? But when she takes a sip, it does little to relieve the cold in her bones.
Like the floor boards that creak beneath her feet as she shuffles around, the cold has settled upon her. It has shriveled up her being leaving a hollowness throughout the majority of her body. Deep within, one can feel the woman she once was curled up and crying for help as her body does what little it can to rescue itself.
Through the window, a chilly breeze sweeps in and rushes about her. She use to run out and play with the storms elements but now she stands in her kitchen where she looks out the window and watches the little sprites prance in glee.
She does want to join them.There is no doubt that she wishes to dance to the thunder claps, splash in the water and search through life with lightning guiding her way.
But she makes no move to do so.
She continues to stand in her kitchen, only this time she has looked away from the window and rested her gaze on a picture. A picture that was taken not too long ago of a woman whose eyes glisten with cheer as a man with loving eyes gaze down at her child-like being.
Reaching out, she brushes a finger against the image as if her touch could bring it to life and replay the memory. And indeed it does.
Her mind is filled with the memory of walking along a beach and holding the man’s hand with a smile on her rosy cheeks. She shrieks in delight as the water washes up and covers their feet. He takes the opportunity to pick her up and carry her even further out into the ocean. Like kids, they tease and play with no worry as to the consequences.
Just as he leans in to kiss her soft delicate lips, the image begins to distort and she is brought back to the present. Living in her memories is no way to live but she can’t help but wish for such an outcome.
Picking up her mug, she holds it close to her heart as she walks back to her bedroom. Passing by the mirror, she sees the old lady still but she cares not for the image that it displays.
Her bed beckons her to return to its soft clutches and she is completely willing to oblige. Once she is back in its arms, she places her mug upon the bedside table just as a young man’s arms wrap around her and pull her close to his heart.
As if by magic, her heart senses his beating rhythms and matches them perfectly. Slowly, the tides of pain ebb away at his strong force but she wants to conquer her own battles and she knows of only one way to do so.
Moving out of his grasp, she stretches out to grab her laptop. And as the little mechanism roars to life, the storms begin.
© 2015 Jessica Santos