On Walking Away…
I said what I had to say, in a message. It came as a surprise to her. I received and acknowledged what she had to say, and she accepted what I had to offer. She did not offer me anything, some painful words that I expected to hear, something she said some time ago that probably did not register in my head or probably I ignored and resolved to take as a challenge.
Unfortunately I withered against it, my spirit weak, my resolve weaker. I did the best I can.
So I took down the symbols that went along with the responsibility and the commitment. I packed away some of the things in a small cloth peppered with red dots, tied it to the end of a stick. Some of the symbols, I kept. But I threw away nothing. None of the reminders of the past were ripped, burned or destroyed. The memories in my head, I tucked away in a small corner of my heart, where I can find them as a future reference for things not yet happening. The corner that belongs to her, at least for some time until I forget or until I decide to come back.
I open the door, revealing a dirt path leading somewhere. There are no signs, just a path, which I know will break out into different paths somewhere down the road that I see. I take the first step, then another, a good number before looking back. Messengers delivered me something to read and think about. I ponder them deeply and examine my resolve. I stood firm, then I sat on the side of the road.
It is there where I hold my head in my hands for a fleeting moment. Some tears roll down. I look up at the sky, where there are no answers and then I gaze upon the road.
I stand up, and continue, not knowing where it will take me, but knowing it will lead me somewhere.