at the door

She stands at the door, poised to exit; her hand pressed to the wood, her torso twisted back in response to those who have last things to say. The star-studded darkness beckons her quietly, while gently those inside continue to offer all she's needed, always. And yet, it is not those closest to the door who speak and reach out, but those in the furthest corners of the room; their tender love rooting her to the spot on the threshold. Those nearby, with whom she spent the most time at the gathering are nonplussed, as if finished with her company, making her wonder if this lingering matters to them, annoys them, if they even notice she is so close to leaving, perhaps for good.

She recognizes the feeling in all its complicated layers. So long ago thinking that being disappeared would matter to no one. More recently, realizing that being replaced unceremoniously is a recurring theme in her life. Always staying in place because of the example she'd admired from childhood; wondering all this time - all her life, really - whether the promise was worth the effort. All the while knowing that it must be, and yet....

So she stands, talking,smiling, laughing over the heads of those nearest, knowing those on the edges are holding her, while torn and broken inside. Turning away would be so easy. Pushing the door open and stepping into the darkness. An argument in her very core: the darkness may be Darkness; the darkness may be the moments before sunrise and glorious Light. Her eyes fool her, as do her feelings. Her mind tells her the door may be locked from the outside; there is no return. Her heart tells her that even if that were true, those on the edges of the room would undoubtedly open if she knocked - if they can hear her, of if they can push their way past the oblivious ones nearer the door - those who are unaware of their role in this moment, despite the strength of their message.

She smiles and talks, laughing with those on the edges who, in their hearts truly know, and cry along with her; tears of sadness, hope, joy, love. Love. Love is on the edges of the room.

"The image is clear and sharp in your mind because it is the one that represents everything that has ever happened in your life." Again and again. Painfully true. She wonders about pushing through the door. About trust and faith. About steadfast Love. And friendship - true, deep, intimate friendship. And the nearness of God.