The Awakening

What surprises me is that I don’t remember the exact date or what I was wearing. I usually remember details like that about important events in my life. However, of that day, that moment, that experience in my life I mostly just remember how I felt. At first I was just so very tired, and my body was just so very heavy. With each step that I took, it was like I was carrying a thousand pounds of pain on my shoulders. When I reached the bedroom there was a shift and I was light as a feather. The weight of me, under me and over me disappeared and I fell to the bed effortlessly. Still. I lay still. I lay still, body motionless.

Then there was a tear. A single tear that unleashed and lest loose everything within the gates of my soul and spirit. A sound. A gasp for air. A sound and gasp for air that released what must have been all my years of pain. Nothing could stop the flood of tears. Nothing could quiet the sounds.

To my bedside came my mother. She lifted my limp body up into her arms and held me so close she could feel my heart beating as if I were once again a baby in her bosom. She rocked me back and forth, she rubbed my back. I could do nothing more but cry and moan. When I finally stopped crying she laid my body down on the bed and I went to sleep.

I have yet to wake. And there are times like today that I pray that there were arms that I could rest in like I did that day. So that I may cry and moan, so that I may be rocked to sleep. For in that, there would also be an awakening.