Friday, September 19, 2014

The night, the end.

When I was very young, I used to fear the night.
Not because of the dark, but because it meant 'the end'.
It was the end of a day, the end of a conversation. The sun would leave us, and so would my parents.
I was 2, and 3, and 4.
Maybe it had to do with time, or change, or maybe it was the closing of the eyes and not knowing where that would take me. Whatever it was, it marked me. This certain fear of transition, this feeling that comes with endings and the unknown of what is coming in the morning, that stayed with me.

Years passed, and I still fought the dark.
But it was there that I found Him. In the 'in between', in the transition, in this strange battle I found myself in at the end of the day. I found Him there, sitting on my bedside.

We'd talk about the day, about my friends and school, and about my questions. We talked about change. We talked about what I wanted to become, what I was afraid of, what I was proud of.

I became fond of the night.
I still wasn't sure what would come when I'd open my eyes.
But I knew He'd be there.
I asked Him to be there.

It's September, almost Fall, and I feel this fear again. Something is ending. And something else is beginning. I have to close my eyes, without knowing what the morning looks like. It's the end of a day, of a conversation. It's the transition, the 'in between'.

And I'm reminded of the night. Something about it is necessary. Something about it is important.
It was there that I found You. It was there that I fought, but also let go.

There is something about change. There is something about 'the end'. There is something about closing your eyes and waking up again.

And so, I find You here, too.