I look back upon my past life as if it were some battered shipwreck washed upon the rocks of stormy Cape Horn, South America. It is going to take a lot of work to get this shattered hull afloat again and to set sail for new horizons; heh, horizons, what a quaint little word to describe my future life.
I realize I am scared. I feel as if I am a small child again looking at the crack in an almost open closet door in my darkened childhood bedroom wondering if any monsters will emerge. Strange shadows stretch across the carpet cast from the street lamp outside my bedroom window. They seem to move in creepy crawly fashion; tendrils reaching out to snatch me from my bed.
I turn on the bedside lamp and the shadows immediately disappear. The shadows of my past are gone in an instant. Now a distant memory until I turn off the lamp and they reemerge from their hiding places; once again to torment me.
This is how I feel about the journey upon which I am soon to embark. My failed marriage; my homelessness; the mental illness; the alcoholism; all monsters in my closet keeping me scared and mired in the past. Six months of my life will be gone, but will it rebuild the hull of this battered shipwreck. I don’t know. The uncertainty is overbearing. Those are six months I will never get back. If only this ship can set sail again. I hear there are distant lands to be discovered over the vast oceans distances that will be my recovery. I want to set sail and leave this rocky Horn. Undiscovered countries await. I just hope I don’t encounter hostile natives once I arrive.
No comments:
Post a Comment