The Awakening

Short essay.

The Awakening
I remember my mother used to say, “Your past is never dead, it’s only sleeping”. Throughout the years I have found her puzzling quotation to be quite true, yet incomplete in some respects. Although our past relationships can certainly be awakened, I have found that most times they have suffered some ill effect from their hibernation, or perhaps they have maintained a natural evolution that wasn’t apparent prior to its long rest. Maybe it’s just me, but when I feel I have formed a friendship it becomes a kinship, an adoption, an appendage to my soul that never leaves, put quite simply, a part of my “whole”. I suppose that’s why it saddens me that these vestiges I adopted don’t seem to share my vigilance to the relationship and somehow, at some point, seem to reflect a different color, a color I might not have chosen to adorn had I seen it initially. It is said that people don’t change, they are who they are, but, as I have unfortunately found, they sometimes do. It’s not lost on me that everyone’s life evolves, becomes more complex, and priorities shift, yet, and maybe it’s only me, but how does one shift the importance of love by means of mere time and distance? I know for certain that the love I have for my son would only continue to grow, if that be possible, regardless of time apart or the distance that lie between us. I would be concerned of his daily life and emotions, triumphs and pit falls, dreams and aspirations as the day we parted. Though this be a special, perhaps highest form of loving relationship, between a father and son, it is still love, the same term used to describe that which is felt when forming a lifelong friendship. Maybe not often do we say “I love you” to our friends, but the implication manifests itself throughout the relationship and the words are unnecessary. So, when love awakens from its coma of time apart, does the flame flicker less brightly depending upon your view of the fire? I have come to learn it must, for though I face the fire head on and with eager anticipation, those with whom I share this cinder seem to not derive the same comfort in its warmth. Maybe these are only the ranting’s of a dreamer having to take hold of the cold hand of reality in knowing that the warmth I have offered cannot be reflected. Maybe it’s better if some things stay asleep.


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Reviews

[Frankie]

Interesting and thought-provoking, and the language choice is beautiful. You portrayed what you wanted to write, and did it brilliantly at that. This is amazing. :)