26

There is darkness all around me as I float, my feet never touching ground. This used to frighten me, but now I find comfort within its confines. I blissfully remain suspended, my arms and legs useless as they drift above my body. I don’t even register their presence anymore.

I just float.

And float.

And float.

I’ve been here for months, yet something about tonight is different.

There’s a sense of searching, of longing, of missing some vital piece of my existence. My heart aches for it, but I have no idea what it is I seek.

Dazedly, I turn my head, noticing a sliver of light infiltrating my darkness. Its rolling edges beckon me as it hovers, illuminating a corner of what I thought was an endless space. As though drawn by the sun, I twist my body, winding through the nothingness until the light is inches in front of my face. It begins to grow, glowing more brightly with each passing second. Curious, I tilt my head, inspecting the light as it summons me, as though it’s a long-lost friend.

Heat radiates from its core, and I am helpless to do anything but reach for it. The corners of my mouth lift ever so slightly when I make contact, and a relieved shiver racks my entire body as my fingers begin to thaw. The light stretches for me, and I watch, awestruck, as its essence forms the shape of a silvery hand. I mimic the gesture, placing my palm flat against the palm that forms. Warm fingers lace with mine, the grip comforting as it gently tugs my drifting body. I revel in the feeling as I’m drawn with it, away from my blackness and into a neighboring space full of sunlight and warmth.

My feet land softly on the grass below me, no longer suspended in the cocoon of darkness. A light breeze whips around me, carrying with it a familiar floral scent. I inhale deeply and glance at my hand to see it’s no longer joined with the other. My eyes drift downward, finding a sea of white wildflowers beside my bare feet. They too wave cheerfully, joyfully bounding in the breeze. Crouching down, I grin at them, my heart elated and pumping wildly as we become reacquainted. I reach for them, tenderly brushing my fingers along their petals and smiling wide when they bounce and stretch, eager.

You have been asleep for long enough. It’s time to open your eyes.

I lift my gaze from the flowers to find an incorporeal figure in the distance. I can’t make out much since it’s translucent. It floats gracefully, stoically, above the grass, and although I can’t make out its eyes, I know it’s looking directly into my soul.

I rise tentatively and take a step, but it negates my movement, prohibiting me from lessening the distance between us.

Soft laughter fills the air. You cannot reach me because I’m not really here.

Echoes of the soft whisper swirl all around me, wrapping me in what feels like a light embrace. Confused, I look to the flowers still happily bouncing with our presence. They seem so real. This seems so real.

My gaze drifts back to the form as it seems to drift farther away. An overwhelming sense of sadness floods me and instinctively, I try to reach for it.

I watch helplessly as it ascends, a sense of longing squeezing my heart as the distance separates us, more and more.

Time to wake and roar, my little lioness.

Tears flood my eyes, surprising me. Something about the endearment jars my happiness with an indescribable, agonizing ache. It’s curiously familiar, tugging on some part of my consciousness I can’t seem to grasp.

I tilt my head back farther and watch the form fade, warmth cascading down my cheeks. Words carried on a light, fluttering breeze are the last thing I hear before it disappears.

Do not mourn me. Revive me.

“No!” The scream rips from my soul as I reach for the figure. I begin to cry. Hot, searing pain slices through my body at the loss, my knees buckling, forcing me to the ground. My hands shoot out in front of me, and I sweep them wildly, seeking the solace of the wildflowers, but they’re gone.

Sunlight and warmth no longer surround me. There’s just endless suffocating darkness.

Sobs wrack my body, stealing my breath and crushing my heart with each bellowed cry. I have no idea how long I remain in the darkness, the same cruel darkness that’s been swallowing me for months. I am utterly alone, accompanied only by loneliness and solitude as they hollow from the inside. I’m terrified the grief and loss will consume me.

Maybe it’s that fear that drives me, or perhaps it’s unwillingness to no longer exist in this place, but somehow, after the tears have dried and I can cry no more, I find the strength to stand. My legs are unsure beneath me, and like a newborn foal’s, unsteady from lack of use.

My eyes, swollen and sore, take in the blackness around me, and suddenly I’m terrified with the knowledge of how truly lost I’ve become.

“How do I get out of this place?”

I told you.

I gasp, surprised to hear the melodic whisper as it swirls all around me.

Open your eyes.

Something sparks to life within me, filling my hollowed soul with a sense of promise. Because I’m finally able to understand. I may still be blinded in the darkness, but now, I finally see.

I will weather this storm and emerge, newly born as spring welcomes me.

Because winter will pass.

And I no longer fear the pain of what’s to come.