streaksMarch 22, 2017

Sit down.  A shudder.  An inner slump followed abruptly by a deafening inner scream. The mouth moved and I heard the words come out, maybe I saw them as they rushed at my face with fists clenched aiming for the most tender part of me… my heart. Every moisture-producing point on my body dried up immediately.  Tears, why do you elude me in this time of need?  If I could cry it would have been made better… just wait, the tears will come after the initial shock and you will be unable to quell them no matter how hard you try.  It’s ok. No, it isn’t.  The future holds that place of “okness” that I was told about, but at that moment I couldn’t see it, I could only see devastation and it’s rippling effect moving outward, consuming an imaginary joy, a future hoped for, innocence in a desire for that simple future.  Gone, but not leaving that wake of destruction that I initially saw.  It laid waste to my earlier imaginings about what my future should look like and it left a beautifully blank canvas.  Never has the white, untainted, and taught look of an imaginary canvas seemed so bright and brilliant in my mind’s eye.  And there lying next to me in the wake of this calamity are paints, their labels something unfamiliar just a short time ago, I look at each one in wonder as I read their labels: Joy – a brilliant yellow with what looks like stars and sunbeams mixed together, Happiness – a subtle blue like sapphires strewn across the bottom of a crystal clear pool of water, Adventure – a rainbow made entirely of the memories that are yet to be.  I picked up my paintbrush, opened the paints, and now I begin to paint!  Something new and tantalizing, something that I never even thought possible, I paint – little by little – into this new future, splattering paint on this canvas and after each stroke or swipe; I stop, I step back and I relish in it and then I make another stroke and another and the picture comes together… slowly, as it should.  That devastation was just a whitewashing of my fantastical future, giving me the clean medium of my new life to come, and allowing me to slow down and paint a better picture.

Christian Sanders


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s