Leaving The Room

The room is stark and empty, with only one wooden, straight backed chair where you sit in silence, waiting. But the room hasn't always been empty. When you first came here, it was aglow with the soft light of love. The room was once filled with beautiful artwork, paintings of wild storm tossed seas brilliant sunsets, dappled forests and steams and of some sun drenched deserted beach marked with the trail made in the smooth sand of a boat being dragged across it, only to disappear into the curling, foaming waves. There were sculptors of dancing lovers, and of birds in flight. Shelves lined the walls filled with books telling of a love story. The stories recorded every tender word spoken from loving lips. They told of every soft embrace, every heart felt declaration, every musical note created with the delight of two lovers. Yes this room once rang with laughter and joy. Now that laughter is absorbed into the walls and as you continue to speak your words of love, they merely echo back to you, piercing your heart with every syllable.

The fountains of joy, have evaporated though time, the gardens of whispered delights have withered. And the sweepers and dusters have come while you've been focused on the hope of your future together, and have cleaned the remnants of your hopes away, and you have only now noticed. You have only now noticed that you are all alone, left with nothing but memories. Your voice, your love your yearning, reaches no farther than the empty walls around you.

How long have you been sitting here with your hands quietly folded on your lap, barely breathing and squinting with your eyes trying to see his form appear in the doorway? When did the love he gave so freely and poured so lavishly on you, turn to just the occasional crumb to keep you in this room. That kept you from walking out that door you see on the opposite wall. The door that has always been there but that you didn't see until the room was emptied?

It is a door isn't it. It's color the same stark white as the wall that frames it. The only thing that sets it apart from the room are the rusty hinges and doorknob. You stare at it for a long time, frozen with wonder as to what lies beyond it. Could there be life and freedom outside this room? You certainly were happy here. You had dreams and expectations for a time in this room. Those dreams and expectations left with each painting, each sculptor each volume each musical note that have vanished from the room almost without your notice. Now it's only you sitting in your lone chair, staring at that door.

There is no reason to stay. No longer a reason to wait. You rise slowly from your chair and move with hesitant feet toward the door. Before you realize you've even gained an inch, you stand with outstretched hand and take hold of the rusting knob. It doesn't turn with ease but is that because of the condition of the doorknob or your own reluctance? You hear a soft click, and a thin beam of brilliant light pierces through the cracked open edge. As you open the door wider, your eyes behold the most beautiful garden you've ever seen. Trees and flowering bushes line a pebbled path, wet with dew and sparkling like diamonds as the sun paints each drop with the colors of the rainbow. Birds sing a symphony in tune with a fountain in the small courtyard carpeted with wildflowers. Leaves suddenly start a dance with the breeze.

You take a deep breath and turning to look back into your empty room, you remember when it was full of the life the two of you had given it. You know that it's time to close the door to that life because one of you left it long ago. One of you gave up on the dream. One of you might drop in one day and find you gone and you wonder if he will question why. Then slowly turning to quietly close the door for the last time, you listen for that final click of the latch and begin the walk in your own garden.