Wait and Rest

Snow falls hard and cold in this country, much more cold and harsher than anywhere I have ever lived. And I have traveled, traveled so long, so many places, places I thought I could rest and wait out forever, but it never happened. The rest nor the wait. I always found myself walking, riding, flying my way through, through trees, forests, mountains, sea, and everything in between. With each year and with each border I pass I realize the elation of crossing, slowly got taken over by anxiety. The mystery and curiosity became poisoned with doubt and fear; can this be it? Or is it another pit stop of my never-ending trudge until I'm weak and hollow, in my final moments, my brain will try to walk, continue the search for wait and rest while my body is fallen, unable.

I thought I found it, I thought I finally had it, right here in my arms, my Annabel Lee. In this cold, forgotten country of yore, in this house; brittle and old yet warm and kind. I thought here, was the forever and the ever after. Here it is and yet I feel I have pushed it away, and this time there was no going back.

I had seen glimpses, fragments of the resting and the waiting. Through the Annies, the Helens, the Margarets, and Lenores. But none, none were like her, none were like my Annabel Lee. Like an oracle of the moon, she understood, my soul or whatever I was on the inside. She read me like a book and she decided this one, this one she liked, and this one she shall take and keep by her. And I made her a doctrine never, ever to be broken or sullied.

I have though, like an ingrate. Again and again, as I let the window open, as the winds pass me by as if through its chilling, it is calling, calling for me again and again. It tempted me like the devil, and I acted like one. We fought, we fought so much. The anger, the rage surrounded us like hellfire. I wore a red cloak for the cold and went outside, vowing, never to return, to my ever after. I looked back and saw her by the window, on the highest window, she was looking down at me. Like I was small, petty. Maybe I was and she was so big, much too big for me.

I walked and as the day got bluer, so did my mood. My boiling anger was nowhere to be found, replaced with sorrowful thoughts about my impending solitude. I wondered if this life of mine was meant for this. A journey without destination. Maybe, there aren't enough Anabells, countries, and mansions to keep me happy. Maybe the point of it all was to tell the children, a story of a man whose hunger was so deep that he could eat the whole world, and he'd still be growling. Maybe it's a story to laugh at, maybe there's a moral in it.

As I continued through fork roads, dead trees, and mountains of snow I wondered what was I so afraid of, why o why, I did not feel threatened in this forest with not a single soul to be seen, but rather in the loving arms of my Annabel Lee? Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is richness of self. I pondered where I'd put myself in. It is then not before nor after I saw a bird, black as abyss, a raven. Sat upon a dead tree, directly above me, looking down at me, like my Annabel Lee.

I wondered what omen it brought. Ravens are agents of satan, Noah didn't take the ravens on the boat during the flood, and yet they survived. But I'm not Christian not from there either. I've traveled the world, and in some places, ravens bought good fortune or even chance. This one, I could not decide what it bought. It looked at me, so directly, as if asking me, what was I so afraid of? Daring me to look at its eye, daring me to ignore what's right in front of me.

I was stuck there, like in a spell. Ruminating, continued rumination. The blue got even bluer, soon you wouldn't be even able to tell if it was ever blue or not. Annabel was afraid of the dark, then and there, I somehow decided whatever fear I had, was not worth being afraid of. I must be close to her, my darling, my bride, for to truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them. I must not be afraid, I won't ever be afraid anymore, nevermore.

The hours I spent coming this far, went by like minutes as I ran myself back to my home. Tired, and out of breath, as I was nearing the house I looked up, and there she stood like she had been all day. Not an inch she moved for how long I couldn't even tell. I could not see clearly, yet I could feel her eyes, eyes so betrayed and crushed. My heart sunk even deep, this, no this wasn't her. Anger and grief had taken my Annabel Lee, whatever stood there, felt like a monster. I had created it, and now I must atone.

One, two-step and I think I felt it before it happened. An explosion, right at the top of the house. Fire, fire that burned through the wood like its candy in seconds, I could tell, with each flicker, that she was no more. Just in that second, my Annabel Lee was nevermore.

I was tired, and so I walked toward my burning home. Maybe this was it, this burning home, my rest and my wait, what little of it remains, my forevermore.