Here's where I muse, I knit, I crochet, I quilt, I rant, I rave, I carry on about the world in general. My patterns and notes on patterns will appear on Knit Knack Patty Shack.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Paradise Lost (on me)

It has been quite some time since I have posted. And in that time tons of things have happened. Things that hurt, things that healed, things that stunned me, things that amazed me. Oddly enough, I grew from the experience rather than shrinking from it.

Those of you fortunate enough to know me in real life were most likely there through most of my tears andmost of the snot slinging that went on in the past 60 days or so. I willnot go into those details simply because they are too personal to post for now. All the wounds have not healed, maybe once they have I will be able to write more freely about them.

For now, I will say that he has returned home. When I asked him why, he said that he tried so hard to push me away but that I just wouldn't budge. I kept standing there and never stopped loving him. I was the one thing that was real.

I wonder about that, though. Is it a compliment that I was able to stand up to something so crippling or is it an insult because I just kept hanging on? Does it make me faithful or does it make me stupid? I know, one small victory and I start questioning. But I am very wary of my surroundings right now.

I feel as though I have been set free from my captivity. And upon setting me free, said captors told me that freedom was just through that field over there. As I step closer to the edge of this field, I can smell the burning flesh of the casualties that got caught in this war. I still hear the cries of motherless children. Fear has become my constant companion and it is fear that whispers in the darkness ever so lightly that I am an idiot.

I see him, though, standing on the other side of the field beckoning to me to just trust him. Yet I see her, too, some way away daring me to take the first step towards him. There is rebellion in me, rebellion that stands up and screams "He is mine, dagnabbit, he is mine!" Yet, fear seeks to quiet that rebellion, reminds me that I believed a lie to begin with.

So, here I stand on the edge, the cusp, of something both great and terrible all at the same time. I am betting my last dollar against the house. Experience says that I will lose the hand, but love whispers that there is hope, even for me.

We shall see.



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