It holds so
much. It holds…everything. All she’s ever wanted and all she’s ever dreamed to
be. It holds her fears, her insecurities. Her pain, her love, her joy…everything.
She’s had so much to dream about. So many plans and aspirations are tucked
inside this backpack for safe keeping. All that she has ever known is in this
one bag. It is hers and hers alone.
“Let
it go,” someone whispers. She knows at once who is speaking to her.
“B-but
I can’t,” she manages to say while falling through the air, “I just can’t.”
“Sweetheart,
let it go. Don’t you see the pain it is causing you? Can’t you see that this isn’t
right?” he asks.
“It-it’s
all I know. How? How can I just let everything go, just like that?” she
stammers out in slight shock.
“Because,”
he replied, “I want it.”
“What?!
Why in the world would you want my
bag?”
“Because
I have something so much better that I want to give to you, but you can only
have it if your hands are empty. A trade, you see.”
“I-I
just don’t know what to do without it… I mean, you’re asking for everything.”
“I
guarantee that my gift to you is far greater than anything you’ve stuffed inside
that bag, my dear. I know the pain you’ve suffered. I know the hurt you feel. I
know the emotions swirling inside you and I also know that it’s tearing you
apart. You’re trying to hold yourself together with your own hands hoping for my
approval, yet you keep falling apart. I’m afraid, that’s not how it works,
sweetheart.”
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
“I-I’m
trying so hard! I’m so tired! Every single day is a battle with myself…I-I can’t
take it anymore!”
“Calm
down, my dear, I’m right here. Just let it go,” he whispers.
“I
want to! I want you to take it all away! I’m through with feeling like this! I’ve
had enough!” she exclaims.
“Then
let it go,” he whispers.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Blood
from her hands is running down her arms as if it was running away from
something. The pain in her hands and fingers has grown increasingly worse.
“I want
to run away! I can’t take it! Maybe if I run away, my problems will cease to
follow me around like an angry mob,” she cries.
“Let
it go, sweetheart,” he whispers, “you have to let the bag go.”
“Here!
Take it away,” she exclaims.
“I’m
sorry,” he explains, “I can’t take it yet, dear. You have to let it go, yourself.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
WOOSH.
WOOSH. WOOSH. The wind pounds and rips at her clothes. She is growing dizzy and
weak from fighting against the wind and holding so tightly to her backpack. All
at once the thoughts in her head come to one conclusion: LET GO.
“I
have to let go. I am. I am letting go. Now. I’m-I’m letting go,” she convinces
herself.
She paused,
shed a single tear thinking of all she was parting with, and then verbalized, “I.
Am. Letting. Go.”
Saying
these words, she let go of the backpack that had been wearing at her hands and
weighing her down.
As
she did this a weight so large was lifted, that it felt as if gravity was
magically shut off and she was somehow floating instead of falling. Overcome
with relief and joy she threw her hands in the air and said “Thank you!”
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