Ed stood at the shore, barefoot and stoic. When Anarchy Girl had left this world suddenly, days after moments in the sunflower patch, the only memory left inside of him, the hardest one of all to remember, Ed realized it was her leaving this life that had most effected him.
It was not the loss of childhood, it was not his father's tirades, it was not dead frogs and it was not the bruises on his arms and legs throughout his life that had ripped from him the will to connect, to live, to love. It was knowing that hope was possible, that life was his to build and construct, and for some reason he'd thought that hope was literally Anarchy Girl herself.
But it was more than that. It was not in the touch of her hands on his foot, it was not in the feel of himself with her and within her, it was not just her heart beating stronger, it was not just the bees humming, it was not just sunflower seeds pulled out to spell YOU. None of it was about the moments.
All of it depended on him. How he gave in. How he gave up. What he was willing to do to feel the hope again. Because the world is full of people, places and things, but the connections, and how connected to each thing, each person, each thought and feeling, has little to do with these things, and everything to do with himself. Everything to do with opening up the one connection to self, receptive to the connections possible, that's all it takes. His father could no more shut it off than Anarchy Girl could open it up, it was just Ed, only himself, he realized, only he with the ability to shut or open himself to the world around him.
His feet touched the ocean waters in long steps forward.
azOS9i ibudlisnchjl, [url=http://bfuyidztxqch.com/]bfuyidztxqch[/url], [link=http://nybapijnqxvu.com/]nybapijnqxvu[/link], http://gsnkqzzoyypw.com/
Posted by: nxefrmok at November 24, 2009 10:21 PM