The Orphan I Am Chronicles- 5

An entry in one of my journals from years ago, for some reason, I’m compelled to post a portion of it.

As I sit beneath this streetlamp along the seawall, I’m unaware of what time it is nor do I really care. Its late, the darkness around me, just beyond my sight ahead lays the shore where I can hear the waves arriving ashore. My hands shake as I hold this journal and pen in hand, assured that shortly things will calm within me, as I write these words. A question which always accompanies me when I arrive and sit under this beacon of light, several feet above me is, how did I arrive at this point, this state of mind?

While ignoring the answer, after leaving most of my trouble far behind in my rear view mirror, I am startled by a small cat who has leaped into the area of light that engulfs me to catch a single moth that has also sought refuge here. But instead of finishing it off, it toys with it, retreating just beyond the light, momentarily into the darkness, only to again pounce and play with it some more. In a way I view this little fella as a metaphor for what my troubles enjoy doing with me. A constant in my life but at times just hidden in the shadows, resurfacing at times to remind me that certain ghost of my past are still around. Perhaps these ghost hope that I will never get past my mistakes or have the strenght and courage to simply, move on.

As I write, I hear a lone gull flying above me, the waves caressing the shore, an occasional car passing behind me and far in the distance, some music, jazz I believe. The warmup top I wear has her perfume on it, just enough to remind me of her. My eyes water, tears fall upon this paper, one has blurred a single word, ‘her’. Trying to swallow, refusing to acknowledge this ‘sign’, my eyes shift back towards this cat who now has decided to lay on the outer edge of the light, his face barely visible, I try calling to it. Then just in an instant, it was gone, retreating back into the darkness as the music I heard now becomes more clearer.

I move my head slightly and determine it comes from my right, somewhere along the beach. As many times as I have come here for solitude and escape, this is the first time at this late an hour that I have been aware of someone else up at this late and hour. I look at my cell and see that it is after three am. Surely I can’t ignore this calling, can I? Wiping tears from my face, I have decided to walk and explore this source of ‘hope’. As I conclude this entry, I know not what lies ahead, but do we ever? My heart beats faster as I conclude and perhaps begin.

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~ by tonekinchloe on July 16, 2011.

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