A girl walked down the streets of Nashville that evening, a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck and her hands placed in her coat. It was the same street's she had walked last year this time...yet then she was not alone.
Finally she found an empty bench and opened up her jounral where she sometimes wrote down dreams that came and went. In her simple seventeen year old hand-writing she wrote : Perhaps this is the beginning of the end. She then looked up at the busy street and a tear crawled down her face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Packing up her book, she escaped outside and walked for a bit and down to the shore. The cold November waves crashed against her legs and for the first time she burst into tears. She thought of leaving the place she loved so much, the friend she lost so young, the horror's she saw as a child, the boy who had torn apart her heart without even knowing it. Nothing in the world was right that night. . No one was there to feel her pain, no one knew the tears fell so hard.
That's when she felt it again. This was the beginning of an end. Perhaps, this was the end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many months later, the same girl starred out onto the beach. The sun had set long ago and it seemed if it was ready to rise again. She walked down to the water, waves crashing her legs once more. It reminded her of a night in November long ago. Except that was a different beach, in a different place. But still the same worries--and more--haunted her heart.Yet that's when she reminded herself why she was here on these distant shores. She remembered what she was fighting for. Through the tears and the pain she was still fighting. Perhaps these moments were her battle scars. There was so much uncertainty in the air but never would she give up.
A smile spread across her face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A month later she was driving down the road as she admired the beautiful mountains around her. Finally she was on her way to a place she would call home. She turned on the radio and listened for a while on and off and finally turned off. The rest of the drive was silent. But it was a beautiful silence.
She had moved on, but could never forget the moments that had so changed who she was. A question floated in her head, "What am I fighting for?"
A big truck drove by. She just glanced at it to see someone had scribbled "Jesus" on the side in mud. "That is what I fighting for," She whispered.
This was not the end. But it was the end of a chapter...the first and sad beginning was over. It was the end of the beginning.
The End (not really).
Note: This was just a little ramble I put together about my life. It's not very good, I'm not a great writer, but it's something that tugs at my heart strings....smiles, maya.
