It Could Have Been

//It Could Have Been

It Could Have Been

It Could Have Been

There was a magical mountain. At the top of the mountain there was a golden house. It could’ve been mine.

I laced up my boots and I got ready. I was ready to climb the mountain. I was ready to make it mine.

I started down the road slowly surely, I knew my destination.

I started at the base of the mountain. I stepped one foot in front of the other. I walked with intention. In my mind I imagined the golden house.

As I struggled to climb, sweat filled my brow and dripped down my body. I ripped off my shirt and threw it to the ground.

Each step I took began to hurt my body. I felt my breath become heavy like my eyelids. I pushed onward.

The only thing that kept me going was the vision of the golden house.

Soon, I would reach the golden house.

Night began to fall.

Darkness filled the mountain.

I looked down but I couldn’t see my feet. Still I kept on.

I reached the apex of the mountain and my hand clutched at the rocks. I could barely hold on.

Hold on.

I need to hold on.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

With all my strength I pushed up with my arms and pulled myself to peak. I knelt down on my knees and looked over the mountain. My body dripped with sweat. I saw a beautiful valley.

I struggled to breathe and then I remembered the golden house.

Quickly I turned around, and there it was.

I could barely see as the sweat dripped into my eyes. I brushed it away swiftly and pulled myself up from the ground.

I stumbled through the house. I knew what was inside or rather who. I began to smile just thinking about him. I stopped abruptly. I watched in horror as the golden house began to melt.

“No!” I screamed.

It was too late, it was melting. The hot sun beat down on the house as it melted, melted, melted away.

It was gone, along with him.

I sat at the top of the mountain not knowing what to do next.

I pulled myself up from the ground and brushed the dirt from my body. I looked at the valley below.

Promise.

It held promise.

Hope.

The golden house was gone. But down below, I felt him.

We would meet again.

By | 2015-04-08T01:55:33+00:00 April 7th, 2015|Uncategorized|1 Comment

One Comment

  1. Trauma Dad April 19, 2015 at 5:41 pm

    This is really good 🙂 I feel like I spend my life climbing the mountain, only to realize that the house was actually back in that valley. And so I descend. And then it’s on the mountain again. So I proceed. Back and forth. But it isn’t a fruitless journey, because all the while, I am being conditioned. Honed. One day the sweat will stop dripping, or I’ll learn to fly, or even bring the house to me. Because that golden house, truly, is anything I want it to be. And so am I.

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: