The warm breeze flowing through my open window hovered over me as I lied on my bed, basking in the countless memories of the fading summer. Millions of misplaced sounds filled the atmosphere as if they were jostled notes of a breathtaking symphony. The distant music was of another world as sleep quietly engulfed me. Sleep's serenade was rudely disrupted by an unfamiliar sound outside my window. The infamous concrete porch and old swing hanging from it's ceiling was known for misleading creaks and shuffles, but somehow I couldn't dismiss the eerie surge through my body that caused my heart to drop and my eyes to remain peeled open. My sunken heart was not failed. As I twisted and turned in my suddenly unbearable, confining bed, I heard the familiar click of the heavy front door. The same click that brought forth warm and familiar faces now sent a chill down my spine. As the twist of the doorknob shattered every inch of silence still lurking about me, I was crudely reminded that the door was not locked.
The second click secured the closing of the door, and immense fear began to build somewhere in my chest. The sound of heavy boots filtered through the house as I listened intently to the direction of each step. I then watched my doorknob slowly turn. In those few seconds I tried to convince myself that this face wouldn't be foreign, but a friend in need of help. Seconds seemed like hours as my door slowly creaked open. A face shone through the crack of the door as if all the light that still lingered in my room was attracted to his face. My jaw dropped as I realized the severity of my situation. His eyes held no comfort and his smiled showed no hint of friendliness. Every muscle in my body stiffened as a blur of words fell out of his mouth. I was drowning in my own innocence as I gasped for oxygen. Using gathered strength from the pit of my stomach, I told him to leave just above a whimper. The intruder continued to persist, but a burning in my back caused my plea to gain force. In what seemed like hours, the man quietly shut my door, and his made his exit just as abrupt as his entry. There was fluttering in every limb of my body as I was left awestruck. I was frozen in that spot on my bed. Thousands of feuding emotions bombarded me from every direction. Tears gushed from my eyes as the overwhelming fear still lingered in the air. Somehow during these moments, life seemed so precious. Reality smacked me in the face and reminded me of the daily gift of life that I am blessed with every day. I felt as though the click of the door not only shattered the deep silence of the night, but also the security in which I was surrounded.
The next morning showed no change from the ordinary summer schedule. My mother sat quietly at the computer playing solitaire and relaxing with a warm cup of coffee. She immediately noticed my puffy eyes and red face, and immediately demanded the culprit of my tears. I recalled the night's happenings as well as I could, but no words seemed to do the severity justice. The expressions on my mother's face were of none I had ever seen, and a pang below my heart caused the tears to come once again. A new kind of stress and fear then flooded through my body. All the emotions I felt the night before were resurrected and now I shared them with my mother. The following hours were spent in the web of an inquisitive police officer's questions and in my father's arms. The officer professionally demanded information and scribbled down on a pad of paper an illustration of words bringing to life the intrusion. However, that was the extent of his services, there was nothing else he could do. There was nothing else anyone could do. Only time could medicate the wounds inflicted to my family and me.
Overcoming the constant fear and loss of security has been a gradual process of healing for me. It has been a little over a year, and small thefts and minute vandalism have littered the time span. It is difficult to draw a parallel between these misdemeanors and the intrusion in August, but the thought is constantly lingering in my mind. The idea that the man who shattered my security thrives in the same world as me is an obstacle that I struggle with every time I am left alone. I am reminded of my weakness with every urge to look over my shoulder. Though I wasn't harmed physically, I am left with scars that are not easily concealed. However, through this experience I have learned to appreciate the frailty of life. The wicked world can shatter a seemingly perfect life in minutes, and it is only these moments that can open a person's eyes to realize how fortunate they really are. Every bad situation has a glimmer of good, a lesson to be learned. Although I will always have the unfamiliar face burned in the back of my mind, along its side will be the lesson it taught me. Life is a treasure, a constant showering of blessings that helps us each form a unique story of our own, and you never know when your story might come to an end.
The second click secured the closing of the door, and immense fear began to build somewhere in my chest. The sound of heavy boots filtered through the house as I listened intently to the direction of each step. I then watched my doorknob slowly turn. In those few seconds I tried to convince myself that this face wouldn't be foreign, but a friend in need of help. Seconds seemed like hours as my door slowly creaked open. A face shone through the crack of the door as if all the light that still lingered in my room was attracted to his face. My jaw dropped as I realized the severity of my situation. His eyes held no comfort and his smiled showed no hint of friendliness. Every muscle in my body stiffened as a blur of words fell out of his mouth. I was drowning in my own innocence as I gasped for oxygen. Using gathered strength from the pit of my stomach, I told him to leave just above a whimper. The intruder continued to persist, but a burning in my back caused my plea to gain force. In what seemed like hours, the man quietly shut my door, and his made his exit just as abrupt as his entry. There was fluttering in every limb of my body as I was left awestruck. I was frozen in that spot on my bed. Thousands of feuding emotions bombarded me from every direction. Tears gushed from my eyes as the overwhelming fear still lingered in the air. Somehow during these moments, life seemed so precious. Reality smacked me in the face and reminded me of the daily gift of life that I am blessed with every day. I felt as though the click of the door not only shattered the deep silence of the night, but also the security in which I was surrounded.
The next morning showed no change from the ordinary summer schedule. My mother sat quietly at the computer playing solitaire and relaxing with a warm cup of coffee. She immediately noticed my puffy eyes and red face, and immediately demanded the culprit of my tears. I recalled the night's happenings as well as I could, but no words seemed to do the severity justice. The expressions on my mother's face were of none I had ever seen, and a pang below my heart caused the tears to come once again. A new kind of stress and fear then flooded through my body. All the emotions I felt the night before were resurrected and now I shared them with my mother. The following hours were spent in the web of an inquisitive police officer's questions and in my father's arms. The officer professionally demanded information and scribbled down on a pad of paper an illustration of words bringing to life the intrusion. However, that was the extent of his services, there was nothing else he could do. There was nothing else anyone could do. Only time could medicate the wounds inflicted to my family and me.
Overcoming the constant fear and loss of security has been a gradual process of healing for me. It has been a little over a year, and small thefts and minute vandalism have littered the time span. It is difficult to draw a parallel between these misdemeanors and the intrusion in August, but the thought is constantly lingering in my mind. The idea that the man who shattered my security thrives in the same world as me is an obstacle that I struggle with every time I am left alone. I am reminded of my weakness with every urge to look over my shoulder. Though I wasn't harmed physically, I am left with scars that are not easily concealed. However, through this experience I have learned to appreciate the frailty of life. The wicked world can shatter a seemingly perfect life in minutes, and it is only these moments that can open a person's eyes to realize how fortunate they really are. Every bad situation has a glimmer of good, a lesson to be learned. Although I will always have the unfamiliar face burned in the back of my mind, along its side will be the lesson it taught me. Life is a treasure, a constant showering of blessings that helps us each form a unique story of our own, and you never know when your story might come to an end.
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