She was there, in my house. In my old house. In my old living room. I wasn’t really sure what she was doing there or what she wanted, but she was there. In my world, in my life again, just the way she left it a few months ago.
I could hear voices talking about things in the living room, about the things that no longer concerned me anymore, and it made me wonder why she was there. I felt safe anyway, because I was in my house, in my own territory. She couldn’t hurt me again.
The sound of the voices came nearer to where I was. I was in my room, my old room, as I heard a knock. The impact pushed the door open and there she was, standing right in front of me. She came in and it seemed she was explaining herself and why she was there. I listened. She was saying something about coming in peace and about the things that had happened between us. In her voice, I could still hear that cantankerous tone, that defensive moan. She never apologized.
I told her I wanted to text her many times before, to know how she was doing and why I never did because I wasn’t sure she would want to hear from me, better still reply me. She said she knew, a couple of people had said the same about her.
We let bygones be bygones. Water flowed under-bridge as she helped me sort out my clothes, my sweaters and my jackets. Harmattan was coming and I needed them for my return journey. We talked about different things, mostly me doing all the talking and then I woke up.
It was still dark outside as I laid on my bed. I felt the peaceful surge of rest travel through my bones as I relaxed and heaved long, hard and heavy. I felt my spirit calm because in my dream, I had forgiven the one that had hurt me and while awake, there I was, dreaming of a dream with a smile on my face. Often times, our dreams are a reflection of our thoughts and wishes and in most cases, with dreams come responsibilities. For me, a responsibility to forgive the one that hurt me.
Have you ever found it very hard to let go?