Alone, he stepped into the world. The bright lights created his eyes. The harsh wind ruffled his golden hair. And his shoulders carried the burden of loneliness.
Alone, in the harsh heat of the desert. It hadn’t always been this way. But it was now and that’s what mattered at the moment.
He returned to his spot in the shade of the small cave he called his home for now. He knew he had better chances hunting at night. Plus, there was still food to spare.
He leaned his head back against the rock, surprisingly cool in the face of this heat, and recalled his youth.
Born in a small town in Colorado, he never would have even dreamed of the adventures he would grow to sustain.
His parents and siblings loved him, but even so he often felt alone when young. His flesh preyed on his insecurities and drove him almost to the darkest corners of the earth.
As he grew, he met not only the Creator of the Universe, but friends he could count on. Friends to love.
And perhaps a friendship turned to love. And he lived it out with God within and guiding him along all the way...even now, in this desert. Alone.
But there is hope, for this is not the darkest corner of the world. And even alone in the physical sense, his family, friends, love, and father are with him always. Blessed is he.
My Christmas is not like many others. There is no free for all gift opening. There is no running back to our rooms to spend the day with all our new toys. There are no crazy drunken uncles, nor white trash cousins. No one gets ran over by reindeer. No one gets left out of it. But by golly, it’s crazy. And it is crazy good.
But this year...this year was different. I woke early, excited to spend time with my family. Excited to give gifts. Excited to love each other. We opened gifts, my last one being a beautiful and intricately carved knife. Seemingly just out of a fantasy.
I placed it in my room with the rest of my gifts, heading down stairs for a quick lunch. We quickly ate turkey sandwiches, and with that done the real fun began.
The games come hard and fast. Hitting like punches. The longest and most anticipated game was a family version of capture the flag/hide and seek/tag/extreme Calvin ball.
We spread out, hiding and preparing. I burst out of the shadows on my mark. I sprinted around the corner. I jumped off a small bridge. I climbed a tree and jumped to the next. Cross a river. Run down a hill. And with next corner, I truly lost. My blade.
My blade shoved right between my ribs, meeting my heart like a wrenching kiss. The cold metal shocks my blood, but the metal turns warm as my blood washes over it.
Family games have become too competitive.
I wake up in the recovery room, it looks like all the other rooms, but more empty. This one is just me and my oxygen tank. I look around and there is a nurse, who sees that I am awake.
“Hello, I’m Margaret. Your nurse for the day. On a scale of one to ten, one being the least, ten being the most, how much pain are you feeling?” She asked kindly with a clipboard ready to write it down.
I flex muscles, twist this was and that way. Looking all around and assessing my ability.
“I feel great, probably a 1.”
She nods, as if that was expected. She checks my blood pressure and heart rate then leaves, telling someone to bring me breakfast, and me that she will be returning with the doctor.
So kind, nurses are the best. She was so confident I would feel no pain, so confident in their work. I waited and ate, the food being delicious. Eventually, they returned.
The doctor sat beside my bed. He looked disappointed.
“Chloe, you are quote strong.” He says, looking for a way to begin. I nod, not quite agreeing, but curious of what he will say next. “And that’s why I know you’ll be able to take this, Chloe.”
Take what? I feel fine.
“Due to an issue with the surgery...you can no longer feel the sensation of pain. I’m sorry.”
I always knew I was different, and outcast. An alien in human flesh, destined to wander this strange planet alone. Then I saw him, sitting across the cafeteria.
Wearing a nice white hoodie that made his incredibly pale skin seem almost more tan than possible. His hood was half up, but the front bit of his hair tumbled out. Golden and blonde, drooping nest his eye level, as I neared his eyes themselves, I blushed furiously. They were brown and green and hazel and all of the warmest colors, I could see right into them.
Wait. I can see right in to them. He’s looking right at me. His eyes traveled to my hair, boring brown, very messy — what I call “rustic” or “bed head beauty” — then continued on to my attire, tracing my shape with his eyes, and motioning to the chair across from him. Oh buddy. I cautiously went and sat down.
“So how was your day?” He asked kindly.
“Well, to be honest, I was feeling pretty worthless until a moment ago. School sucked and work wasn’t the best, but at least I brought cookies.” I said cautiously.
He laughed, telling me I have worth and reminding me of Gods love. I am no alien.
“You were the only reason, the only reason at all.” I said it with confidence in my voice as I looked up into his beautiful face. I could have sat there forever, basking in the warmth. The sun was gone, the earth gone with it, but here I stood on solid ground with light shining around me. It was warmer than the sun. Brighter. Purer. Better and stronger than the sun ever could have been. It is the light of God.
He stretched his arms out wide, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” The words I had waited my whole life to hear. Such kindness and love within them. I had never been happier about servitude. It had all been worth it. His love filled me like it all those times when I drew near to the Holy Spirit.
I ran to his arms, tears already streaming down my face. I crashed into him, but he caught me, steady as a stone. He held me as I cried in his arms.
Heaven didn’t matter so much, eternity didn’t matter so much, everything else didn’t matter at all. Nothing except Jesus. It was all for him. All of it.
He led me to a room and together we watched my life pass by, we cried in my failure (which was a lot) and my sins, but rejoices for each time I chose to follow God, for each time I listened to his call.
The gates opened and together we walked to eternity.
The warmth of the big ol light in the sky is my very favorite. I lay by the window all the while it is there. I wish it would never leave. The warmth settles into my fur and my insides warm up...I’m hungry and want food. Regretfully, I leave my perch. I yawn and stretch my legs, beginning to make my way into the darkness. It’s cold, but warmth remains. I hope it’s food time.
I head to my human, as they call themselves. My little mouth can’t pronounce their words, but they are truly below me. Like stupid kittens.
My human is in this weird room I haven’t quite figured the purpose of yet, with a big hard white thing they sit on and a mini water producing spout. Odd... why would anyone need water like that? Will they play in it? I don’t know, I’m not quite tall enough to see and they don’t like me jumping on everything.
But I like the room too, and I want in. There’s a plant in the corner that smells heavenly and tastes good too, eating it makes me feel magical. But now I want my pebble food.
I hit the door, again and again, then pawing underneath, hoping to catch their toes. I scream at the top of my lungs, imitating them in their waterfall thing. They come out, I lead them to my bowl, I need to eat.
Ever so slowly they pour my pebbles into my bowl and I scarf them down, finally full, I can return to the warmth.
They were all gone. All of them, just like that. The dinner table had been full of food and friends alike, laughing and talking as we ate and were grateful. Christmas had always been my favorite time of the year, even with the cold and pain it brought me. It always carries an extra bit of love in the air to warm each and every one of us. Perhaps that’s just God though.
I had asked for someone to pass the apple juice, parched from all the stuffing I had downed. And Apple is one of the bests. They laughed and played around, acting as if they might drop it, but as they picked it up...that was it. The pitcher fell and shattered on the table, and while it should have sprayed people, it just wet chairs. They weren’t here. Why?
I struggle to pull myself back to the present. A remembering will only waste time, they’ve been gone so long, they aren’t coming back.
When they first disappeared, my friends, family, relatives, all of them, I searched high and low. I reported it to the police, put up signs, looked online, went to shelters, spoke to priests, even tried to track their phones. Nothing, nada, they were gone. And when I woke from that haze I found it had been three year and I had to move on.
Maybe they had planned it. Maybe they were all leaving and leaving...leaving me behind. They may laugh in their new world or whatever, but I won’t be shedding another tear.
I stare out over the lush landscape, the green fields and deep jungles with racing rivers and singing birds. Most would call this paradise, most would dream for the life I’ve lived. But while it sounds cool, it wasn’t fun. I didn’t want it.
Looking back, all I really want is to be back at that table.
He winked at me and I knew I had it, I was the best gunslinger in the whole of the Wild West. I stared down my opponent, she wasn’t the first and she wouldn’t be the last; I only wish I didn’t have to kill her. We both drew, like I’ve done for years, but this time I fell back, and my blood bubbled out.
There was fire all around The sky dark yet bright The blood on the ground Shone into his eyes
This was his worst fear Her hand laying limp The end drawing near She could not yet go
She turned her head toward him Her last words on her lips Looking him in the eyes as her own grew dim She coughed out the few lines
Her heart slowed to a stop Her trust in him and soul at peace His eyes went to the top To her boy in the trees
The fire grew brighter The risks multiplying rapidly Her last wish could be lighter For he might die for it
The cold brushed against my cheek as I walked through the cold park. My mind blank except the strong desire to get home and out of this snow.
It’s been snowing for days straight, nearing the biggest cold front we have experienced here in Boston. The fall is long gone, and with it our best season. The winter has never been quite this bad though.
I slip a bit going over a bridge, struggling to keep my footing. I make it over and collapse into an almost buried park bench. I’m already so tired from the cold, only about 4 miles, but in this weather and with only a light coat I am so lost and tired.
Something digs into my back and I slowly rotate to grab it: a golden locket. Weird. The latch is minuscule, and I take off my glove to open it. I touch it with my bare hand and the world around me slows down.
The snow is falling peacefully and quietly. I can see through the gaps in the storm, before they shifted in a moments notice. The air doesn’t seem quiet so cold with the wind just a gentle breeze...it’s like I’ve stepped out of this place just on the other side of a screen.
Off in the distance I see a blur of a shape. I step through the slow moving snow drifts toward it, slowly it becomes a silhouette, and beyond that it becomes a cat.
A soft furry baby, so small and precious. He huddles against the tree, just trying to stay warm. I pick him up and bring him into my coat, holding him against me. The locket disappears and the storm is back.
The kitty clings to my warmth, his paws are like ice and I strive to protect him from the storm. Just a small grey buddy, sweet as ever. The walk home seems much more urgent now.
