…Left
 

In the dimly lit bathroom of a small house, tucked away in a cul-de-sac at the bottom of a hill, a girl looked up from washing her hands into a simple slab mirror--and instantly fell in love with herself.  She had seen her face many times before, but never like this.

She saw the contours of her body as supple and intriguing.  Her proportions with just the right amount of unusual.  Her faint smile held back something deeper just below the surface.  And her eyes glistened with confident, mischievous intent.  The girl stared back at her reflection in awe, almost wondering what it would do next.

Like a nymph, watching from beneath the water’s surface, her reflection sparked something in the girl; something she’d forgotten.  That life was fun and it was waiting for her.

The girl left her house, her computer, her clothes, her lover… all the things she had worked so hard to keep. So that she could have them for tomorrow, but never enjoy them today.  Like fine jewelry buried with a corpse; a nice sentiment but, in reality, pointless.

When she stepped out of the doorway, she was unburdened by commitments she had made for herself.  The last one left behind--was a note.  It read:

My life is calling.  I have to go.

...Ran

This is the story of a girl, whose hair color was under much debate.  Some of the people she met said she was blonde. Others insisted she was brunette.  One individual described her hair as being like his granddaughters’. And another said that it was the color of the morning sun embroidered with threads of moonlight and refined copper.  Whatever color her hair really was, it was the hair atop the head of the girl who left…

The girl with the variegated hair walked out the front door of her house that she rented with her lover and two housemates.  Standing on the threshold, she felt like she could run for the first time in years…and she did.  

For about a minute, she felt as though she had golden wings that lightened every step and cushioned her descent.  She didn’t just run. She jumped, she twirled, she danced -- with such freedom that people on the street were jogged out of their concerns and compelled to gaze upon her.  Each person was warmed in their belly, remembering what they knew as a child; that this world was still full of unexpected happenings.

...Danced

It is important for you to understand, that the girl who ran was not a runner.  She never ran from anything in her life: not physically, not intellectually, not emotionally.  She would remain firmly planted, endlessly if needed, and tell herself: it was her duty, she was the only one good enough, strong enough, and one day it would be worth it.  Her intense determination was a prison and she, its only and dutiful guard. Which is why, when she ran now, her entire past melted away.

She did not mind the onlookers as she leapt and spun; they were a world apart.  If she wanted, she could easily pierce through the veil and take any one of them by the hand and pull them into her vibrant, gold-dipped world.  But for now, she let them be, beautiful, broad-stroked, figures painted on the background of her view.

...Doubted

The girl who left was once told that she was the bravest person he had ever met.  Hearing these words, her heart lightened with pride. To be brave and strong was how she always wanted to be recognized, and so rarely she was.  The boy said she was brave because she had so many fears, and everyday she faced them all. Regardless of bravery’s true meaning and how high a compliment this could have been, the girl’s soaring heart came crashing down.  And despite her best efforts, so did her tears.

After her approximate minute of glorious skipping, it occurred to the girl that she did not know where she was going.  What does one so unburdened do? Where does one so unburdened go?  

The only answers could be anything and anywhere.  

And if anything is on the table and anywhere is a destination, how does one chose?  Her steps slowed to a clunky, uncertain trundling. The world felt a little bit darker, a little bit heavier, and the painted people were, little by little, looking more and more like her.  She wondered what they must think of her spirited twirling Every face turned away as quickly as she turned to face them. Do they judge her because she danced, or do they judge her because she stopped?

...Followed

The girl who left had always been plagued by fears.  She couldn’t help it. She had so much to protect. She had so much possibility, so much opportunity. So many gifts, so many talents.  So much beauty, so much light. And whether or not they were truly awed by her or parroting pleasantries, every time someone told her how much she had--it became another iron chain that she carried on her shoulders.

Standing in the cold, darkening park creeping in around her, a ray of sun hit her through a break in the trees; and washed over her like a long-awaited kiss.  

Standing in that amber glow, she felt warm, loved.  The rays seemed to bounce off her and splash surrounding scenery with color and gloss.  The girl smiled. She did not know where she was going, but for now. She followed the sun.  So, danced away, the girl who left.

...Chose

Many, many years ago, when the girl was stable--because her world was full of ever-changing, enchanting mystery--she witnessed a sunrise.  It was not her first sunrise, nor her last, but it was the most memorable.  

For reasons unknown, she awoke before dawn that day, crawled out of the bed she shared with her sister, walked out of the house and onto the balcony, where she clasped wrought iron rods in her two hands, and peered onto the lake below, where she witnessed the most beautiful, solitary, sunrise of her life.

The sunrise glimmered and shone across the vast body of water and made the girl feel that life was magnificent and lonely, and achingly beautiful.  And despite being six years old, she felt as though she had been taking it for granted.  

As the girl followed the lonely, sinking sun, she was reminded of this feeling. 

The girl who left, ran, danced, doubted, and followed, was faced with a moment of choice, as there was not much left of the sun to guide her.  She wrestled with the more efficient choice, the safer choice, the braver choice, the unexpected choice, and found that she was overwhelmed with choices.

She realized there was no one to tell her the “best” option and there was no one around to see her choose a lesser option.  Her shoulders relaxed and made way for a joy that welled up inside her. She was just getting started and wanted to walk on--so she did.

From there on out, she traveled on when it occurred to her, rested when she felt like it, talked to fellow journeyers when she wanted to, and waited when it pleased her.  There were infinite choices that floated through her mind at any moment and she loved making every one of them.

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