The light at the end of my tunnel sometimes seems so faint that I stop believing in it. It becomes a tiny speck so distant that it gets lost in the suffocating, blackening distractions of life.
When this happens I stumble through my tunnel in fear. It seems like there's nothing but the cold air and damp walls to remind me that I should keep walking--Keep living. Sometimes I even fall. I catch myself, sacrificing my palms to whatever fate they may meet as they make contact with the unknown darkness beneath me.
The hardest thing is pushing yourself back onto your feet once you're down with your face against the cool floor, rocks digging into your cheek. When your palms are bleeding it can feel easier to just give up and simply endure the constant pain you are currently experiencing, rather than risk a higher level of pain in the future should you continue.
But, regardless, you manage to pick yourself up again eventually. I personally often find myself leaning against the unstable tunnel wall at this point, trying to build up the courage to face the unknown, often sharp, obstacles again. This is also usually the time when I remember about that little speck of light that I can barely make out far in the distance.
If I focus intently enough on it I swear that I can almost feel its warmth. I find the strength to release myself from the cold companionship of the wall and take a shaky, careful step towards it. I can definitely feel it now, and as my steps towards it slowly grow more confident. I can make out silhouettes of the rocks and challenges that tripped me up so easily before, allowing me to start distinguishing a simpler path through them.
I suddenly realize that all along I have been wrong. It's not MY tunnel at all. I take my eyes off of the obstacles in front of me and see others along the path. Some, like I had been, lay fallen in the distance, hopelessness showing in their eyes even from afar. Others were more near. One girl in particular clenched her fists and teeth as she struggled to push herself back onto her feet. She had fallen hard. The fight in her eyes was beginning to fade as she tried unsuccessfully to hold back the tears that mixed with the blood pooling beneath her torn palms.
I desert my path and backtrack haphazardly towards her. Somehow I manage to keep my footing on my way to her. She doesn't notice me until I kneel down to her level.
"Hey. Everything is going to be okay."
She looks up in surprise for a moment, relief floods through her and without a word she silently leans forward and sobs silently on my shoulder. Once her sobs settle to hoarse but steady breathing, I rise and lift her by her wrists, careful not to touch the tender lacerations on her hands. They'll need time to heal on their own, as mine are.
I realize that the light has grown enough that now I can see her perfectly. She is held up by a frail frame, the frame of someone who has fallen again and again. But the fight has returned to her eyes, and I could walk away. I've done my part; she's back on her feet. Instead, I put my arm around her and we turn around back towards the light--together.
The light rushes over us like a wave, enveloping us it in its reassuring heat like a coastal summer's breeze. Tears form in both of our eyes this time. Together we will never have to be afraid again. Neither of us can fall when the other is supporting them with their everything. And even if we fall together, we know the light will gently lend its hand, catching and lifting us even higher than before.
We take our first step together towards the next nearest broken figure, with hands outstretched.
This post ended VERY differently than I had originally planned. I guess that that girl reached out and found ME in the dark. I hope that all of you have some sort of light at the end of the tunnel to reach for, regardless of what you believe in. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, and just so you all know I LOVE when people follow this blog (see the followers app on the right of the blog). I also love feedback and shares. ;) Thanks everyone!
