A New Light

Old buildings had always fascinated her. Governmental structures, old temples, and ancient castles had all left her in awe. They had seen so much, so many feelings had been etched in the walls. Important decisions could’ve been made in the room, wars could’ve been waged right outside the doors. Maybe even a hundred years ago or more, someone her age, long passed now, had run their hand over the wall of the building, in the same exact places she would run her own hand over now. Maybe someone had stood in the exact place where she was standing. It was incredible, in her opinion, how many memories four walls could hold.

However, she had never thought that she would see her own house that way.

The sheets on her bed had dampened as millions of tears softly dripped down onto them. The door to her bedroom had been shut forcefully many times over, blocking someone out and keeping someone in. And the curtains had witnessed fight after fight after fight. Those curtains were made of black cloth, which prevented any light from shining through them. In her opinion, it was rather fitting, since, at one time in her life, she had believed there was no light left in her anyway.

One the day he left, she had thought that he had taken all of the light with him. The fateful day when he packed his bags and walked straight out of her home, without turning back. The day her home began to feel more like a prison than a sanctuary, a crushing dark space of despair and sadness that pressed down on her harder and harder, the more time she spent there. At the time, she hadn’t known that it was her darkness, the darkness inside of her that was crushing her. Her mind was the prison, rather than the house, which was holding strong after all the years.

On the day she had put the house up for sale, she had cried until she couldn't breathe, and the tears had kept coming all the way home. After she had spent the rest of the day wallowing in self pity, she had sworn that was the last time she would cry over him, or over how her life had been before he left. And she had stayed true to that promise.

On this certain morning, she was filled with a sense of purpose, a feeling she hadn't felt in a long time. As much as she felt emotions clawing up her throat, begging to be let out, she would not break the promise she had made to herself. There was no room for any emotions that could harm her judgment. There was only a strong sense of resolve.

She stared at herself in the mirror for at least half an hour, willing herself to believe that she was stronger than she thought. Then she came out of the bathroom to grab her bag from her room.

The sheets. The door. The curtains. Because although they had been witnesses to pain, suffering, and cruelty, they had also witnessed love. Soft kisses pressed to cheeks in the dark. Bright laughter while watering the sunflowers on the balcony. Peaceful mornings nestled up to each other, the house quiet and the scent of coffee in the air.

The house was practically a historic monument, in a way, if only for the two that had lived there. It was a bittersweet feeling to be standing in it for the very last time.

She steadily moved toward the curtains, slowly unhooking the black fabric, and tucking them in her bag. She pushed at the window, and it opened with a creak, letting the cool morning air inside. The soft light from outside streamed in, brightening the room. She smiled softly as the shadows on the walls disappeared, along with the ones on her heart. The pain from the months past felt like a distant memory, one she hoped would stay distant. She rather liked the weightless feeling in her chest, the feeling of freedom. She took the sheets off the bed, placing them along with the curtains. Running her hand down the smooth wood of the door, she opened it and walked down the stairs to the front door, pushing aside the curtains or coverings for every window in the house, letting light fill the rooms and lift the pain of the last months.

In a way, she felt she owed it to the house that had held strong through everything. It felt silly, but she hoped that whoever lived in the house next appreciated it, and blossomed in it, as she had. It was an inanimate object, but it had taught her more about herself than anything else had.

Sometimes she thought that she had always been trapped. Maybe she had never been truly free, and he had merely been a distraction from the fact that she was confined. Maybe that was the reason that the second he had left, she had been truly imprisoned. She had never needed a distraction, she had needed to be free. Really free. And she had done it herself. She had set herself free, without any help. She had ripped the chains off and stood up on her own, without anyone else holding her up. She didn’t need anyone holding her up.

Her eyes swept one last time over the oak colored furniture. At one time, she would've bent over, trying to stop the memories from hitting her. Now, she stood strong, unmovable. She let the memories hit her because the darkness had been all she knew for the last months. Now there was a new light back in her life. A small flickering light in the base of her heart, that was growing strong and steady. Hope.

She pushed the front door open and stepped into the sunlight, breathing in the frosty air. There was a smile on her face as she walked away, and she did not look back.