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Puddles
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TITLE (EDIT)
Puddles
DESCRIPTION
An introspective look at the life of a coming-of age young woman.
[1,336 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Relationships
AUTHOR
Alesha R Preston
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alesha Preston is 20 years old and resides in Nicholasville, Ky. She is a student who works for Visually Impaired Preschool Services and has always enjoyed writing.
[March 2006]
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
esh_12@yahoo.com
Puddles
Alesha R Preston




It was times like these that she was positive God existed. As she felt the intricate curves of her face and touched the texture of her own skin, she knew that there was no way all of this came about by pure coincidence. There was no way that such a complex creature came to live by anything except intelligent design. It just wasn't feasible to think that if one thing had changed a billion years ago, then she may not have been alive. That if perhaps some inferior creature had never decided to crawl upon land, that the human race would never have evolved. No, she knew that she was meant to be. That people were meant to be. The troubling question was that which many find themselves asking. Why am I here? Do I have a specific reason to live? And, if so, am I capable enough, or strong enough to fulfill it? It just seemed difficult to even attempt to imagine for a young woman barely out of her teens. She had lived a normal enough life. She even had a pretty regular - if slightly damaged - childhood.

Tonight, she lay in her bedroom looking around, contemplating all the events and small details that have made up her life up to this point. She was taken back by memories of her long-lost past as well as fantasies of thing that had never- and probably will never have - happened. Her thoughts returned to past loves and what seem to be past lives. She seemed to be sometimes plagued and sometimes comforted by the same images of the old life she had lived. She glanced around at the mix of old black and white pictures of her grandparents around her age and their contrast with the pictures of herself and her friends. There were old ribbons from beauty pageants and county fairs. Even Champion ribbons from state and national competitions. There were even the old clothes that she had worn while making these memories. She had old ticket stubs and letters from people that she hadn't seen in years and may never see again. Some from loved ones who had since passed away. There were birthday cards and small trinkets that had been saved as mementos. She thought of the pictures that had long since been put away, sheltered from the peering eyes of those who may think that she was dwelling on the past instead of moving on.

Tonight, she did not care. She had these old things to look at, if nothing else than for memory's sake. She knew better than anyone that there was no going back. Once something has ended, that means its over. Done. Choices are made, right or wrong, and you live with the consequences. She thinks of the old adage, "You make your bed, you sleep in it". She cynically wonders what happens if you are an insomniac? It is 4:34 a.m., and yet she still hears the quiet murmur of the television in the corner playing a Top 20 Video show.

She had always found comfort in music. There was always a song to fit her mood, no matter how she was feeling. Her tastes ranged in everything from country to rock, to oldies, or even bluegrass or classical. Almost everything in between. She could get lost in a melody, a lyric, or a beat. Secretly, she loved to dance and sing, but still remained too self-conscious to ever think of a performance. Sure, she dreamt of it. Sometimes, she felt, a little to much.

There was a silver cross hanging on the wall that reminded her of her beliefs. She tried to let it give her strength, but somehow, it gave her a sense of inadequacy. No matter how good her heart seemed to be, she knew that there was also a tempestuous side to her that never allowed her to be totally good. There was no ability in her to resist temptation, which in the end, she thought, would be her ultimate downfall. On her best day, when she felt as if she had done something good, she knew that there was always something just around the corner to bring her back down. To "fall short of the glory" in a sense. In this, she lacked any form of strength or self-control.

Also there was the PAST. The Past. Another one of her weak points. One of the hardest things was realizing that she had spent so much time living in the past that she was missing out on the present. Someone once told her "there was a person who spent their entire life trying not to step in the puddles that lay just beyond their feet. At the end, they realized that they had never gotten to see the rainbow." How relevant and true.

She thought of her puddles. Old boyfriends. Old sins. People that she had loved. and people that she had hurt. And worse, those that she had loved and lost. But those puddles were not only made of people, but also her feelings and actions. Among some of these were her fear and her laziness. The anxiety attacks that were always hidden from everyone else. Secrets that she harbored like ghost ships, and regrets that she wished were never there. There were bad thoughts and bad feelings, and the things that she begged to go away, but never would. Some of the puddles, she imagined, were made simply of her own tears, cried over the years. Some were made of her sweat. She had worked, whether anyone had believed it or not. She had not had an easy life, and she held an inborn desire to make everyone happy. Or at least to make everyone believe in something about her. That she was really good, maybe. Some image of goodness. If nothing else, to mask the bad with the good. Another sin. Another regret. She had a fear of confrontation. ANY confrontation, with anyone. She believed that if she could make everyone happy and content and have this stupid projected image of her, then all was well. Not true. In fact, she had two very bad habits. Never being able to say no to anyone, and also, at the same time, almost an inclination to turn on the ones that she loved the most. Why was it so easy to hurt the ones that she really cared about? And why couldn't she just stand up and say no? Those are the two things that, in the end, made her hate who she had become. These two things made her feel that so many would be better off if she never had existed.

But then, she thought of her rainbow. Made up of all the beautiful colors of the things that made her life worthwhile. Her mother. Her family. Her boyfriend, who though difficult at times, at the end of the day could not be without her. But also, her rainbow was made of other things, too. The feeling she got when she heard something funny. The feeling she got when she laid her eyes on an innocent child. Their smile, their little hands, and little ears, and the way they giggled, or grasped her finger. Also, it was made of the feeling that made her want to get up and dance, or the way it felt to hug someone that you really love. Her rainbow was made of the reds and oranges of colorful sunsets and the greens of spring grass and the blues of the skies in summer. It was made of dreams of her future. Love. All things not to be taken for granted. The thought that she held closest to her heart. Rainbows were made as a result of the Lord's Covenant with the world. And she knew that her rainbow came from Him as well. As long as she remembered this, she could keep her eyes on the sky and enjoy the perfection and beauty that was her own personal Rainbow.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2005 Alesha R Preston
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
March 2006
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1326
 

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