We stood together in the fading afternoon light, muted gray shadows blanketed the tired snowdrifts and the cool wet air snapped at our fingers. The mill, out of sight in the distance, burped its familiar clouds and as they sailed higher they lost their form. How strange to be so strong and present and then, like that, gone.
Six long months had passed, alternately weighing us down and lifting us with the promise of a change. We didn’t know what to expect as we walked up the stone path, flutters of the unknown nipping at us from all sides. The wait was murky, the hands on the clock and the flow of conversation conspired, anchoring us to a table beneath a harsh florescent glare. Nervous titters and anxious shuffling, the start and stop of conversation, chairs creaking and hearts leaping, none of us seemed ready to draw the curtain, until it happened.
There was an audible crack as the film between wondering and knowing tore. The hands I had watched as we made our way to this moment changed before my eyes, what had looked so strong, so powerful, were now twisted, my gaze wandered and the strength of my own hands came to me, long fingers and wide palms, luminescent, capable.
A spiritual revival and an unravelling. Across the table I watched as two faces reflected the sum of of our journey, late nights and early mornings, tense moments and soaring triumphs. The exclaims and murmurings of so many memories, warm faces and bright colors flickered. The florescent light grew weak as our unity flashed, the shift of power unexpected, yet as natural as the setting of the sun.
We embraced, laughter rising from bodies weary with relief. Our goodbye echoed with the closing of one door and the opening of another. A new beginning. A destiny. Sitting today, in the light of a new day, having reconnected with what was meant to be feels like the greatest gift.
Here’s to seeing clearly.