After the War

Hi everyone, recently I watched Pearl Harbor and was very much inspired by it. My grandmother grew up in WWII and would tell me stories about it. I’ve also been going through a lot in my own life and just wanted to write a stream of consciousness to vent and think of better times.

I can feel relief sink into my heart. There are cheers of celebration and revival. It has been ages since you could leave your house without a sense of fear. My heels click onto the pavement and there's music in the air. For the first time in a long time, the world feels safe, and it is a comforting time to be alive. Seeing things through rose-colored glasses is a first for me, and I’m sure it will take me a long time to get used to. After ten years of fighting an uphill battle, to let the armor fall off your shoulders even briefly is a gift.

Everything in the past several years; disease, politics, war, it was over for now. Life was a series of hills and valleys, but I could be thankful to the Lord that I was currently standing on a hill, even for a brief moment. He could direct me in all that He asks of me, whether good or bad, and I will follow Him. Still, I am grateful for the times when the life I live is a little more colorful and warm than it is in monotonous cold colors. It’s a blessing that we do not deserve, but should still be grateful for.

My lover reaches out and grasps my hand. We’ve been aged by the past decade but we are alive right now, despite some of our friends being gone. It’s hard to describe, but I think this is only brief, I know this is brief. Before long, we will be out of each other's arms and fighting a battle again. Not for poor reasons, but for the sake of protecting what was given to us and what is good. Hard times had made us appreciative of the stained glass-colored moments.

I can remember days at home when lives were at stake, and we had to fundamentally change as people. We grew up soft and spoiled, and for the first time, we were exposed to hardship and change. We learned the world was not just about us, our wants, our desires, our accolades, but revolved around things much more complicated than we could grasp and understand. 

My lover talks about how he aches to know what we had to go through to regain our freedom. The times when the ocean almost swallowed the world and people turned to leviathans, devils would try and destroy us. A power much greater than his own had protected him. I ruminate on my experiences as well, when there was a refusal of healing upon those who needed it. It seemed as though our lives were gone. We were backed into a corner where a sacrifice was the only option. Again, if not for divine guidance, I would have not had the strength to carry on.

I remind him of what changed. We returned to find what was missing. Repentance of what the world had allowed us to grow into, and the acceptance of carrying a fight on our back every day of our lives. We could no longer uplift and speak highly of things that were of hedonistic nature, but instead, we were now called to honor and glory. This was something that had to be divine and above ourselves. None of us were holy, or great, let alone noble. We were wretched and imperfect.

We stand on the bridge overlooking the river. The streetlights form little gold orbs upon the dynamic waters of the town. Things will not be so pleasant forever, but we had some understanding of what struggle was now. We were now not our parents but our grandparents; long-suffering, attentive, and conserved in nature.

We were to be revolutionaries but in a different way. Not those who pushed for less and less boundaries, but would ask for them where prudentially needed. How could we ask for unrestrained freedom from He who made us? We have argued that our freedom is the ability to do as we please, but in doing so have become slaves to sin. Our hearts have changed, we have come to the understanding of freedom allowing us to carry responsibilities and execute them as we are asked. 

Some of us were called to protect our land externally, but God has allowed many of us to work internally and be vessels and tools for him. Both were necessary for reformation and correction. He uses those who have little value to the world are of most value to Him and His will. We would not be standing free in the warmth of a Fall night, if not for His work and sovereignty. 

“Nothing’s ever going to be the same, '' He says, looking out onto the street-lit currents. The stoney bridge made the busy night seem so empty by the isolated sound of our footsteps. Our world was quieter. I could see grey in his hair and bags under his eyes as they were under mine. 

I used to be more jagged, and bombastic. I would say the years have made me stronger but have given me a worn-down compassion for others. Tiredness that allowed me to see it in other people and love despite the tension that it could cause in me. “I know, things used to be simple.” My twenty-year-old self would not dare to put on a mask that required her to reach outside herself.

“Even a year before the whole ordeal, our world felt like a totally different place.” He leans his arms onto the bridge. His eyes are wistful and filled with soul. He’d seen people get blown to smithereens. His friends went from their human form to something disfigured and unrecognizable in a matter of seconds before his very eyes. He was a man now, but those images had taken the innocence and boyishness he once had far away.

“Yeah, it was...” I stop enjoying our silence, just relieved at his presence. ”Still, we made it through, and we’re alive.” I smile softly, he smiles back. It may be the only normal we’ve felt in ages.

“We are, you know? I never appreciated waking up to the quiet when we were younger. There’s a simplicity in waking up and knowing you have a sink full of dishes to do or a lawn to mow.” He gives a small hoarse laugh under his breath, eyes still focused on the ravine.

“We have some quiet now...we can go home, the war is over.” I rest my hand on his. Our fingers gently entangle as we enjoy the night and look towards the future.