Milestones

We all have them. The winsome touch of a first kiss. The heart wrenching true love of a man you would die for. The beautiful birth of child. The despondent death of a child. The feeling of such despairing loneliness that you think you’re simply going to break apart and blow away, bit by bit like ashes in the wind, until no sign of life is left. I have experienced all of these things, the truth of emotions, the lies of pretty promises, and the skill at which they are relayed. And I believed them all. Why? Because hope is a powerful thing, even though the word tastes bitter on my tongue.

I am not a beautiful woman. My hair is often frizzy and uncontrollable, and the light foray of freckles over pale flesh isn’t as comely as the honey dipped complexions that I see all around me. No, my attraction is attained by small tattered squares of rence and what I can read into them. What I can tell to those who wish a glimpse into their futures. This is my curse, or perhaps it is my blessing. I’m never really sure.

Once I was a slave, and unlike many, I was not unhappy in my slave-dom. It was a simple fact of life and I often wonder what would have happened had Silas not freed me. Would I have continued to be content? I think I would have, if for no other reason then to know I was fulfilling the destiny of others before me. It just might have been enough.

But I was freed. I did find love. Even freedom is not without its regrets, and with freedom, I find I live my life beneath a banner of avoidance, seldom allowing any to get too close. It’s never easy to let anyone see me, the real me and not the woman who hides behind the telling triumph of cards, but occasionally it does happen.

My milestones have been filled with both misery and elation. Tests of triumph and faith, an essay of fears and repentance. I have learned of my strengths and my weaknesses and I have seen what lies just beyond the veil.

And if there is one thing that has been proven to me over and over, it’s that one can never hide from destiny.