The following is a short story I am working on. I re-read it and realized how much it represents my life right now in this moment. I hope you enjoy!
B
“Click.”
She pressed her back against the hardness of the door, facing silence. She breathed it in, taking long, deep, slow breaths, hoping that it would fill her up, quiet the questions that were swirling in her head, open up the door that had been closed for so long. She breathed, closing her eyes and feeling the involuntary curl of her lips. Her eyes opened and gazed at silence standing before her like a lover with a surprise behind his back. Her smile spread completely across her face and released the air she had been holding hostage in her lungs.
From the beginning of time, she had been told that she was the one. She was the one who would break through the barriers, redirect the path, create a new definition and ending to the saga that was her legacy. She was the one. She had no choices, it was her destiny, so she fought. She fought through all of the no’s, all of the unanswered questions, all of the doubt, she fought. She fought, she prayed, she cried, she struggled, walking blindly through a flurry of assignments flying around her head, papers leaving a trail behind her, clocks ticking loudly reminding her that she always had something to do, somewhere to be, some goal to accomplish, some goal to meet, so all she could do is fight. So she fought, she prayed, she cried and she struggled all the way across the stage in her gown and cap representing traditions she didn’t understand but she knew that she had done the right thing when the man she had never met, nor seen before handed her the tiny rolled up scroll of paper and said “Congratulations.” She blinked at him and forced a smile onto her face. Congratulations, she thought, congratulations. The word seemed empty, light and fluffy like the clouds in the sky she used to watch as a kid, but had forgotten about until that moment. Congratulations, there is still work to be done.
Filled with the fear of children too soon, a marriage that died too soon, dreams crushed by circumstance and buried in the grave of her hope, she fights. She fights and she cries and she climbs her way to the top, pausing every now and then to take in the view from her corner office in the sky, hoping that her jacket does indeed cover the coffee stain on the silk blouse she was told she should wear, she has no time to breathe. Cell phones ringing, emails beeping, fax machines whirring, every moment filled with the sounds of a need, of a desire, of the expectation of someone else, the sounds of her success. She is satisfied, content that finally the expectations have been fulfilled and the eyes that rest on her are always filled with pride and the hands that are extended in front of her are filled and as she takes that moment, pausing to take in the view from her corner office in the sky, she remembers in that moment to breathe. One inhale turns into another and her lungs begin to fill, and soon she becomes addicted to this feeling of being alive. She blinks as each inhale clears away a little piece of dust, lifts a little bit of the fog and as her eyes met her won in its reflection, she leans closer and sees that nothing is there. She had never given it a space to grow and define itself and as she stared at her reflection, she prayed for a glimpse, something to bring her hope, but nothing was there.
Everyday, sitting in her corner office with the view she gazed at her reflection hoping for the promise of the light but everyday there was nothing there. She continued to stare and found herself becoming irritated by the interruptions of noise. The ringing sound shook her to her core, each beep that chimed from her computer caused her to wince, the buzzing reminded her of fat flies in the summer that never allowed you to finish your nap and suddenly, she realized that she’d missed it. She’d missed her opportunity to claim herself.
The ringing, the dinging, the whirring, the expectation, the acclaim, the tangible definitions of her success, all maintained and achieved at the expense of her soul. She sat in her corner office with the view and slowly her eyes began to scan the space she has been granted. The space she was allowed to rent until someone better came along to replace her, until she was no longer able to do her job, until, she finally woke up and realized that after all of the tears, the sweat, the blood, she was only take up space. Doing the job until the next one came along to take her place. She had become the educated robot she’d feared, she was one of them. She stared, pausing from her day, the filing, the copying, the scheduling, the meeting, the climbing, the defining herself by the terms of success, she stared, locked eyes with her degree. Her pride and joy, the physical representation of her worth. She gazed at the piece of paper that she had gazed at a million times and found her smile through, the piece of paper that gave her the ability to create respect, to fill in the gaps, to respond to the obligation, it lay before her in the form of a slip of paper.
She stared at it and began to breathe. Each breath filled her up and began to inflate the parts of her that were long dead. The thumping sensation of her heart woke her up and began to drown out the sounds of her success and for the first time she allowed herself to breathe out. The air inside her blew away the piles that had accumulated on her desk leaving it empty and clear. The air inside her blew away the dust that covered the mirror in front of her and as she leaned closer to gaze at the reflection, she leaned closer and was caught off guard by its presence. There it was. She had to lean very close to see it, but it was there. A small almost invisible twinkle in her eye, she had found it. The sight of it filled her up and as she continued to stare, she smiled for the first time since she could remember, she genuinely smiled and watched as the twinkle in her eye began to grow. She knew now, that it was time for her to find it. It was time for her to discover the power of it, she had to find, her.
The first step was heavy. Her foot clumped down harshly seemingly shaking the foundation beneath her, the second step doing the same. Fear sat down heavily on her shoulder and crushed her ability to hold her head high and once again she paused. Looked down at the world she had created and wondered if it was worth it. She had grown accustomed to the stability, to the certainty to the knowing, she paused, sucking in the air and listening to the beating of her heart, shaking from the reality of her own fear. She steps, shivering from the iciness of doubt that began raining down on her, making her long for the warmth of her accomplishments, she steps. Shaking from the presence of anxiety that has stirred up around her, she steps; anxious to find that twinkle, to create that definition, she steps. Each step leading her away from the creation and into the truth, she steps.
The further she stepped the smoother the steps became. The letter of resignation floated to the ground behind her as she finally broke free and began to run. The crispness of the air around her made her stop, the lightness of the air, the coolness of the breeze, the presence of those light and fluffy clouds she once adored greeted her and hugged washing away the presence of her fears, she laughed. Running home, she knew that silence was waiting for her. She knew that the disappointment of those that were depending on her would be drowned out by the silence. She just had to get there. She knew that the discovery of her soul was waiting in the silence, she just had to get there. One more step....just one more.
“Click.”
There it was. She stared at it, breathing it in, allowing it to envelop her senses and erase everything except the two of them, she smiled at it. Smiling with a full blown twinkle in her eye, she knew she was there.
“Congratulations,” it said, “congratulations.”
Her smile faded as the weight of the words weighed down on her. Congratulations, this was the beginning. I’d finally done something right. Congratulations and welcome home.
Nican Robinson Photography © 2009
