I know that it's not Friday anymore, but I still want to participate, so here goes!
This Friday's topic was:
She cradled the box to her chest. In it was all she held dear, all she thought she cherished. But in order to take the next step, she had to leave that box behind. She couldn't take that box with her, full of all the things that she felt she couldn't leave behind, and still step out into the unknown.
There was a wait limit, and she'd reached it. In fact, far surpassed it. She couldn't wait anymore. She had reached the limit of waiting, and, as a matter of fact, she had also reached the weight limit. The box was full to capacity and she couldn't carry it anymore. And he wouldn't wait forever but she couldn't go to him if she didn't leave that box! The weight of the wait pulled on her. And she knew that all she had to do was let go of that darned box.
But her knuckles were white gripping the thing. It wasn't even pretty, you know. It was old and battered and dirty. Grimy in a depressing and disappointing kind of way. How could something so ugly be so hard to let go of?
But it pulled her down. It had her on her knees, knuckles dragging on the ground, getting bloodied by the rough pavement.
Let it go!
He kneels in front of her, lifting her chin with a gentle hand. This isn't how it has to be, you know, he says. She looks up at him and asks him, will you still?
And he says, yes. He says he will. He says he's never stopped asking her. But she was the one that never stopped saying no.
Because to say yes meant that she would have to leave her box.
But then, she did it. She stood, and left that box there.
It wasn't as hard as she thought that it would be. The box didn't call to her, it didn't chase her down. It stayed put right there on the steps where she left it.
And they stood there alone together at the altar without that box and she said yes and he said yes and her tears were of joy and fear because what if she needed that box or what if it found her again but it felt so good to have left it there.
And it's not that she never thinks about that box because one has to, you know. You can't just leave something behind that you have had with you for so long and expect to not ever think about it or have it come back to visit you in one way or another, but she has a new box now.
And it's bright and beautiful and slightly banged up here and there but it's full to bursting and she's always trying to cram more and more into it and it's lovely because it's raw and it's life and it's here and it's now and it's memories and she has finally realized what it is that needs to be cherished.