Return: Part One

I have a story about a return.

Not of a person or people or object or time.

But of a space and a soul and something that used to be, then wasn’t, but was still there, just waiting.

You won’t find the why or how or what for the absence in any part of this story, but you’ll find the hope and faith and total certainty the absence wasn’t permanent.

It’s a story in the abyss. That absolute midnight that engulfs everything you know to be true when you find out it isn’t. Of realizing nothing it what it’s supposed to be, but is exactly what it’s supposed to be.

It’s a story of reaching that point of no return, and then turning back.

It’s a story that seems dark. It isn’t.

It’s a story that seems ugly and terrible and all of those things. It isn’t.

It’s a story of redemption in its purest form.

It’s a story of emotion and feeling and thinking and worrying and reflection.

It’s a story of unexplainable joy in getting something back.

It’s not a story of facts and plots and endpoints. There are no heroes or villains.

It’s a story of decades, with many parts.

It’s a story in no particular order.

I’ll do my best.


Part One.

A few nights ago I had one of the best laughs I’ve had in quite a while. I have no idea what it was about, I just know it happened.

I didn’t even realize it had happened until some time later that evening.

And I do this a lot.

The end of my day is usually spent with some sort of quiet.

No obligations.

No distractions.

No responsibilities.

Just intentional quiet.

It’s where I’m most comfortable.

It’s where inspiration seems most attainable.

It’s where the muse is giving.

It’s where the things I’ve collected during the daylight decide to be held or discarded.

It’s where everything I should have done differently, said differently, acted or reacted differently, point themselves out.

It’s where I realize time is this unstoppable and uncontrollable force of nature and my tendency to exist in the gloom gets in the way of seizing it and making it mine.

It’s where my fears and insecurities and expectation for the worst play themselves out at full blast.

And it’s where things like that laugh settle in.

At some point it will go away.

It will end.

But that laugh is mine.

The end won’t take that.


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