In My Shadow- A Short Story

       I walked through my life with my head down, just trying to get through.  I finally stumbled upon a cobblestone path where I was forced to look up and observe the scenery.  I quite suddenly realized that I had not been paying attention to the people in my life, and things were somehow different than before.  I found a shaded spot beneath a willow tree and decided to stay for a while.  I had journeyed far, and had visited many places.  Some places I came to had been beautiful and lovely, leaving an imprint on my heart forever.  Other places were dark and frightening, leaving a scar in the place of the untouched map of skin that once was there.  As I sat, I pondered my journeys and allowed them to change my thoughts.  I welcomed the sorrow and the joy alike, but couldn't help but wonder why I had been so absorbed with my own journey that I had forgotten to ask you how yours had been.  You've been on a journey also, as we all are, and we both ended up back on the same cobblestone street.  You on one side, and me on the other.  I sit beneath the willow branches and absorb the suns heat from the brown dirt beneath my legs, and you lay on feathers across the way anxiously awaiting.  For what?  I don't know.  I ask you about your travels, and you seem unimpressed with them as you shrug a shoulder and try to close your eyes to the chaos in your mind.  I can see it now.  The beautiful storm that surrounds your brain swirls endlessly with needs.  The storm needs attention, and you are tired from the weight.  I rise from my dirt patch and tread closer to your bed of feathers, squinting through the wind of your storm to see if I can retrace your footprints.  I follow them back down the cobblestone street, one small foot after another, until they turn down a dark and shadowy path.  The trees here are dense and familiar.  Owls query and ravens cry with each step that I take.  I press on because I need to know where you have been; I must understand this storm that surrounds you in your beautiful bed of feathers and gold.  The forest air chills, sending goosebumps up my arms and down my spine.  I hold myself for warmth and shrug further on.  Deeper and deeper into the trees I go, and just when I am beginning to think that I may never make it through, I see rays of sunlight stretching their arms towards me.  I hasten nearer to the iridescent fingers of warmth and step out into a meadow of red dirt and  kudzu.  Catfish swim through the clouds, gulping down birds along their way to the waterfalls of vines.  Stray dogs and broken bottles litter the earth where abandoned teepees stand torn.  I hear a growl behind me that sends me into a hard run.  I push my legs to run faster and not give out as my breath comes in ragged gasps and the skin of my feet is torn by the jagged edges of hundred year old arrowheads.  I can hear the heavy fall of the beasts paws as they strike the ground directly behind my heels, the snarling teeth never letting up, spittle splashing against my hurried calves.  My sides ache and my eyes blur with fearful tears.  My toes hit something hard in the clay, causing my body to tumble forward.  As I fall, time seems to suspend itself and I can see the scenery begin to change.  The rabid dog drifts farther away, the sun lowers across the horizon, and stars pop from the fishes mustached mouths.  A giant ocean wave rises up as high as the horizon and crashes down before me, slowly creeping its way up to lick at my fingers as I hold my upper body up from the sand.  Exhausted, I let my face fall to the damp beach as I pant to catch my still gone breath.  As I begin to relax, I open my eyes and see another footprint directly beneath the spotlight of the moon.  Pulling myself up from the beach, I dust off my legs and slowly make my way to examine the etching in the shoreline.  A soft song eerily drifts up from the surf, beckoning me to try the footprint on for size.  Unsure, I lift my foot and place it directly into the outline that lay in the sand.  Tears spring to my eyes as I realize that I had been following my own footprints the whole time.  I bend over from the weight of my heart, the salt falling from my cheeks to mix with the tresses of the ocean.  The water pools inside of my footprint in an odd way, much like a tide pool within a tide pool.  I lean in and look closely to discern that there is another, smaller, footprint within my own.  Full of shock, I turn and race back up the dunes towards the red dirt.  I gulp in the thick air as I run once more from the monsters that chase me.  Past the snarling dog, dodging the broken glass, leaping from the swooping crows, and stumbling back up the cobblestone path towards your familiar form.  "Why did you follow me?" I cried breathlessly.  I had never seen our paths cross while you grew and I went out on my own journey, because you had stepped in each footprint that I had left along the way.  You look up sleepily from your golden feather bed and whisper, "You are my duality and my mirror."  Your eyes immediately flutter back to close and I can hear your rhythmic breath falling softly upon the ground.  Feeling heavy and defeated, I drag my feet across the street and sit once more beneath my willow tree.  Hot tears continue to fall, making mud beneath my legs.  All this time I thought that I had left you in a safe place while I cast shadows and fought monsters.  But you had been behind me the whole time, treading on my shadow, blindly following me and having to fight the beasts of my journey as your own.  Unsure where we will go from here, I drop my head and whisper, "I could never judge you; I know you.  But taming this storm will be the hardest thing you've ever done, and the greatest achievement of your life."
Who's walking in your footsteps?

"Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us."
- Samuel Smiles

Find Me

       Some days I find myself rushing through my life with purpose and drive.  I know where I'm headed and what step to take next to get where I'm going to be.  Other days I find myself struggling just to get from one moment to the next.  Some days I am strong and full of life, ready for new experiences.  Other days I find it hard to breathe just thinking about the fact that I'll have to go somewhere unfamiliar and be around other people.  I have been free of my abuser for over fourteen years now, and most days I think nothing of my past.  But some days I find myself smiling a little slower, my heart a little heavier, and my mouth a little quieter.  Some days I still flinch as the sun glints off of a belt buckle worn by a random passerby, and my heart skips a few beats at the sound of a raised voice.  Some days I find myself memorizing the make, model, and license plate of the car driving in front of me.  Not because I have a great memory, but because I subconsciously think that they may be on the way to commit a crime, or maybe they have a girl in their trunk who's fighting to get out and I'll have to testify in court one day.  For some people it may appear that I'm having irrational thoughts, but for me those thoughts were once a very real part of my everyday life.  Some days I know that I'm doing my best, but other days I need a helping hand.  Some days I find myself asking my son if he feels safe, if he has everything that he needs, and if he knows that I love him.  Some days I find myself looking for problems that aren't real in my marriage, because it's hard for me to trust that my partner doesn't secretly want to hurt me.  Some days I don't care how I look because I think that I can finally be comfortable with who I am.  Other days I find myself staring blankly at my skin, remembering the blood that once trickled through the little blonde hairs.  I often smile freely and dance without restraint whenever given the opportunity, but some days I find myself struggling to feel free and wondering if I'll always carry this pain.  Some days I find myself wishing that things in my life had gone very differently for my younger self, but other days I run my fingers over my scars and know that I am perfect.  I will never personally thank my abuser for the suffering that he caused; the shattering of my body and my mind.  But some days I find myself thanking the spiritual forces that be for bringing me to a place of continual healing.  I have a story, one that many other people have as well.  Every person on earth is on their own journey; no one can truly save anyone else.  Each person must walk their own path and choose their own healing.  While I sometimes sit in the sun and bask in the fun of the lighthearted and the unscathed, I often find myself curled up in the shade feeling every emotion and having to fight against each stray thought.  This is what makes it worth all of the pain.  Because the people who need help are not the ones out dancing in the sun, they're the ones hiding in the corner shadows.  I may not ever truly be able to pick someone up and carry them back into the light, or lay my hand on their wounds and heal them, but I can rest well at night knowing that, if only for a few moments, I stood in the shadows with those hurting people and held their hearts within my own.
Where do you find yourself?

Photo by Alessandra Vidotto