A Woman's Walk

There are times in a woman’s life where the rest of the world stands still, and the weight of all she has done, and all she ever could be, strains her shoulders and tightens around her ribs. Potential; the word slithers in the back of her mind like an insult, ready to fly free. And yet, she must push onward, even as the world ceases to spin on its axis. I found myself at the beginning of this philosophical road, paused with my foot in the air, and realized that it was my turn to reflect. In that moment, I longed for a companion to make the journey a dialogue between two souls, rather than the timid wanderings of one lonely wretch. The breeze was gentle as it toyed with my hair, and the sunshine beckoned me forward with silent hands. How can I accept the actions of my past? The guilt follows me daily, try as I may to forgive myself and the others responsible for my descent into madness. Am I condemned to a lifetime of self-torment, where every good moment is distorted by the shadows of my errors? Several times I wandered towards the edge of the path and paused, in an attempt to stop my train of thought as quickly as I could control my physical body.

I saw a figure from the corner of my eye, approaching me with cautious steps. I knew her, before she ever stepped beside me, I knew her. I had wrestled with her wild curls many times, placed healing salves on her careless bruises, and looked back on her choices with the same eyes, though mine are fraught with sorrow, where hers are forever bright and charming.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked. I hurried forward rather than attempt an answer, hands buried deep in the pockets of my coat. We walked in silence for a moment, watching the sun disappear behind a gossamer-spun web of clouds. “I was for many years,” I said, surprising myself that the words found their way beyond my lips. “I have learned not to fault you for your mistakes.” I turned to face her, and watched a smile slowly spread across her cheeks. Her eyes grew thoughtful. “We became more serious than I would’ve imagined. Is that my fault?” I shook my head, contemplating a response. “You gave up your responsibilities, and forgot that you are an oldest daughter. The oldest daughter…is integral to those around her. I chose to accept this truth.” 

“So you live your life for others, now. I imagine that cannot bring you joy.” I paused at her inference. My life was my own, was it not? I chose order over chaos, and responsibility over spontaneity. I made the decisions that led me here. I am the consequences of my own actions. “I wanted to pursue reason, and virtue. You wanted turbulence. They are different matters entirely.” She let out a small laugh at this, my laugh, and it left a ringing in my ear. Her front teeth were still crooked, and her skin was paler than mine, though the youth that had long since left my cheeks was bright and ever-glowing in her face. “We were suffering, I acted in response to external factors. I did the best I could for anyone in our situation- you know that. We know that.” She put her hand on my arm, to emphasize her point. She was warm to the touch. Part of me wanted to lean into her attempt at kindness, and the other part of me knew she wasn’t real, and I should force her to leave so I could concentrate on other matters. “Why did you come?” I asked. She gestured ahead, to the road before us. “You began this path without knowing where it leads. I thought I could guide you, if only for a moment.” I scoffed at her. “You? How can you guide me? I have already lived your lifetime, and many years beyond.” She took no personal offense in my statement, at least none visible to my eye.

“I am at the age where you decided that life was no longer worth the trouble. If you had not survived, this would’ve been the end of our story. In another world, I am the final chapter. It was your privilege to grow old, and I’m grateful to be walking beside you.”

I stumbled for a moment, and quickly caught my balance before she could lend me any assistance. Potential…I am her potential. I am what she became. I gazed at her with tears in my eyes, cleared my throat, and continued forward. “I imagine that this road goes on forever,” I said. She nodded in confirmation but still challenged me, “What was it that made you realize?” The sun burst free from cloud cover and bathed us in a swathe of light. “We are all walking an endless road, a road of questions, and regrets, of nostalgic ramblings, and guilty thoughts. I admit that this is somewhat literal, but I imagine that even as I die, the road will carry me on to whatever lies beyond our human understanding.” We were silent for a moment, taking in the birdsong and collecting our thoughts. “I am ready to die. If this is why you’re finally coming to speak to me, I’m trying to make peace,” I choked out. She said nothing, but her shoulders straightened and she looked forward in determination. “I don’t believe it’s our time just yet. And, I see we still have a flair for the dramatic.” I rolled my eyes, but did not fight her when she took my hand. In that moment, I felt the world begin to turn once more, and the pressure in my chest was put to rest. I looked over to her, and felt a deep wound within my soul begin to knit itself closed.

“Do you still feel guilty?” she asked.

I stared up at the sky, and searched my heart for the answer. “No,” I said, “no, I don’t think I do.”