Have Joy

The craving began so quickly I hardly realized what it was. My heart hammered in my ears, the muscles in my arms pulsing. I was excited. So excited I wanted to cry. I wanted something and I wanted it so badly it hurt.

All night was spent tossing and turning trying to rid myself of the persistent feeling that was both annoying and somewhat pleasing. It continued through the morning. I tried to calm it by reading, but somehow that just seemed to make it swell. It felt hopeful and desperate. I wish I could just have the thing and silence the need that grows in my chest. I realize with a start what the feeling is. I want to be loved. Not by my mother with her soft caresses and constant attention. Not by my father, with his protective manner and support. I realize I want to be loved by another. By someone different and new. Someone who would love me for who I am, not bound by ties of blood. I want to feel their hands on my face, I want to feel their love. I want to put my head on their shoulder, I want to hold their hand, and hold them when things are hard. I want to feel them close to me, holding me, protecting me from every harm. I want them to tell me how much they love me, how they will stay with me. How they will do anything and everything for me. I want that. No. I need it. My heart pounds with the need for someone to love. My eyes search for a sign everywhere I go, trying to find that person. But no sign appears, no person finds me. The days seem to grow longer and darker. Filled with nothing but my monotonous routine, nothing to break my cloud-covered days, maybe fill it with a bit of sunshine. I feel that I begin to fade, turning gray and old. Sad. It feels as though I spend my days on a treadmill. Steadily moving forward but getting nowhere. I’m lonely and tired. I almost can’t remember the happy longing that once filled my chest. My limbs feel heavy and useless. And my heart seems to pump slower than usual. Eventually, I fall into bed, too tired to even cover myself. I don’t get up, not for days. My body slowly wastes away from the lack of food and sun. There’s nothing I can do but look out at my bedroom, my eyes unfocused. I don’t feel sad as I once did. I only feel defeated. Tired of life. Finished.

My life amounted to nothing. I went from a beautiful new adult to a dying woman in what feels like no time. I realize that I cant go on, and I’m almost startled at my calmness about it. I find myself covering my weak body in the blankets, settling myself so I’m looking at the ceiling. Then I see it. The sign. The sign I’ve been waiting for all of my sorry life.

I’m here.

It says. I remember who put it there. I remember who has loved me and I never knew. I remember who she is.

Somehow my neglected body finds the strength to rise from the bed and put on some decent clothes. I have no time for food, but I take a long drink of cool refreshing water that is much needed. I leave the house, not bothering to lock the door. I don’t care who goes in. I know, one way or another I will not be returning home. I rack my brain trying to remember where she lives. She told me once that she would never leave the home I met her in. I asked her why. And she’d replied, “so you’ll know where to find me when the time comes.” Now was that time, and I’m so grateful for her foresight, I only hope she’s kept her promise. As I shove through the throng of people I realize this girl gave up her entire life for me, as I had for no one. Though I was never especially kind to her, she had promised me everything. But most of all she had promised to be there for me. That’s why the small bird she carved on my bedpost meant so much to her. That bird represented loyalty. The bird’s name was a mute swan. I begin to see birds everywhere. Crows in the street, geese by the pond, and swans sailing soundlessly across the glass lake. My heart pounds in my chest, rekindled by the hope given to me by this girl’s carving. I start to run, my legs spurred by courage.

She’s mine.

I think. She wanted me to find her, wanted me to need her. And now I do, maybe she always knew I would. Maybe she was just waiting for me to realize. All this time I’d been waiting for the answer to come to me, but really it had been there all along, and I had just been too obsessed with the notion of loving to see it.

The scarf I tied in my hair comes loose and it flies out behind me, caught on a breeze. I watch as it drifts away, powerless to reach it in the mob of people surrounding me. Just as I think it might float all the way to the lake, a hand shoots up in the air and snatches it in their graceful fingers. The precision of the movement is so stunning it takes me a moment to realize I’ve stopped to watch, wanting to see who caught it. Then I see her. She is easy to pick out in this mess of hard-working people, with her young face and bright red hair. The crowd seems to part in front of her as she makes her way to me. Her face brightens even more when she notices me standing there. Through her thick brown coat, I can see she’s broken into a run, her bright lips parting to show a dazzling smile. I find myself jogging towards her, then sprinting. She opens her arms and lets the scarf wave like a flag of surrender. We reach each other, and I hesitate. What do I do? What do I say? She looks at me, her bright green eyes filled with tears. She sniffs once, then she throws her arms around me nearly knocking me to the ground. Once I regain my balance I squeeze her back, burying my face in her hair, warming my nose in her coat. She smells so fresh, so soft. Like honey. She pulls away, and I instantly want to hug her again, her warmth so soothing in the chilly spring air.

“What happened to you?” She asks gently, touching the hollow of my cheek. Her eyes search mine asking me more than her mouth could ever. I want to tell her. I want to tell her everything, the way I have wallowed in my own sadness, my own longing for something I could never have. But I don’t. Instead, I say: “I didn’t have you.” She lets out a sound that is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Then she reaches for my hand and wraps it in hers, rubbing some life back into my fingers.

“Let’s get you fixed up.” I nod and feel my face lift, I’m confused until I realize I’m smiling. Smiling, for the first time in a very long time. She twines my fingers in hers and leads me away from the bustling streets to a small house with a gabled roof. I stop at the little iron gate that marks the edge of the property and look at my feet. I know that if I step inside I won’t ever be going back to my old life, my old pains. All my suffering will be over and I can be happy. Though I have wasted part of my life, it’s not too late for me to start living. I lift my chest and set my shoulders back, and with confidence, I take the first step to a new life with Joy.