It was a cool balmy spring day as Emily sat with her friend, Robert, in a couple of overstuffed mix-matched chairs, drinking coffee and talking. It was their weekly ritual to stake out a place for themselves around lunch time at the local coffee shop. Sunlight streamed into the tiny shop through its floor to ceiling windows, glinting off the glass tabletop between Emily and Robert. The sudden flash of light instantly reminded her that she had something she desperately wanted to talk to Robert about. Reaching over, Emily caught her friend’s attention by waving her hand excitedly in his face. Seeing him look up from his coffee mug, she started relating her story to him.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
There was a time in my life, which dwells far into my history, even as it feels as though it were only yesterday. I was fresh out of high school and just out of a horribly turbulent and abusive relationship. But despite my escape, it still ate away at everything positive I saw inside myself. It eroded my self-esteem and stymied my dreams, dropping the last shreds of hope I had into a chaotic abyss that I subsequently lost myself in. During that bleak time in my life, while I drowned in a sea of overwhelming emotions and confusion, I rediscovered something I had lost. It came in the guise of a child, shining like a beacon in the darkness. That sliver of gently illuminated hope offered me a reason to go on living and a reason to push forward in my life, instead of just lying in the muck as I was so used to doing.