A Place to Call Home

Robin Little Girl1“I have come to the painful, yet somewhat welcomed, realization that I can no longer remain here with you in this sad and lonely place, I’m sorry.  This decision was not made hastily nor was it arrived at without regret.  I believe there is a place for me: a place with cool clear waters that will wash away the deep seeded regrets that haunt me: a place where the blue sky cradles a sun that showers bright warm rays that burst from that soft yellow ball: a place where there will be no more pain, despair and memories of past embraces that will never be felt again.

“I have very reluctantly remained in this unnatural place for so very long hoping a sense of belonging would come over me, but none ever entered my being.  I now embrace the feeling that the emotional intuitive heart can often extend better guidance than the calculating mind.

“I will miss you and those who call this place home, but it is not now, and I now know it can never be, my home.  I will think of you often and the memory of you, the look of your face and the sound of your voice will forever live in my heart.

“Tell those who have concern I am in pain, the pain of deep and darkened loneliness.  Comfort those with concern for me by telling them I am disheartened, the terrible loneliness and sadness that comes from having no identity and no sense of belonging.  Say to anyone that asks about me I could not stay in this cold dark place where I was not made to feel welcome. I have lived in this place but I have not felt alive.

“While I look forward with great anticipation to finding the place where I belong there is also sadness in my heart.  I will never have the pleasure and joy of seeing you again.  There will never again be a time when I will hear your voice. I know I will not know the sensation of your touch.  These are the things I must sacrifice in the quest to find my sanity, happiness and sense of belonging.

I pray you may someday come to understand why I have made this difficult choice, goodbye.”

The once young and soft but now old and harsh elderly woman’s hand stopped near the bottom of the paper but the pen was not lifted from the last period, that final bit of punctuation the hand placed at the end of the words and sentence.  It was as if she wasn’t convinced she had finished transferring her thoughts into written words and she inexplicably felt as though once the pen was lifted it could never again touch the paper.  After the passage of time and thought, and with no more words to write, she lifted the pen and drew it away from the document.

The old woman knew that it would be futile to attempt to explain her feelings any further and she doubted that anyone could ever understand those emotions that compelled her to compose the letter.  As she placed the letter into a plain white envelope she slowly rose from the chair.

As she walked away the letter fell off its intended surface and onto the cold hard floor.  The sealed envelope fell addressee side up, and the handwritten script read, “To; my old friend or whom so ever it may concern”.

As the old woman slowly walked away she knew she had to stop and look once more, and for the last time, at the place she knew so well.  A tear came to the corner of her eye and slowly made its way down her cheek.  There was no thought of wiping it away as she knew that was where the tear belonged.

The old woman left with the innocent naivety only someone with nothing to lose could possess.  She left without knowing where she was going, how long her journey would last or how she would find the most assuredly elusive place.  She only knew in her heart of hearts that no matter what obstacles lay in her path and even if the trek consumed every waking moment some day and somewhere, there would be a place for her. Roses often bloom in nothing more than dry patches of earth exposed by crumbling concrete, thus the old lady knew all things were possible.

She knew the flowers could only be more colorful, the days warmer and the breeze softer there.  The sky most assuredly would be a brighter blue and the night sky would be the home to more points of light than she could imagine.  The songbird’s voices would be beautiful and could be heard even in the darkness of night.

As the old woman turned to face her new world she began to walk.  Her pace began to quicken and she knew that was the moment her search for something wonderful began.  The once moist tear fell from her cheek and the sense of sadness turned to that of cautious anticipation as she recalled something once said to her; “Remarkable obstacles beckon incessantly, never hinting at their treacherous nature”.

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