A New Beginning
"Beginnings are always messy."
they a good or a bad thing? Does every beginning have an end and does the beginning always end badly? What do the words beginning and end truly mean?Do they really have an accurate definition? The dictionary may state definitions for the words but when you ask someone else, let's say a religious person; you may get different definitions for the words.
A religious person may respond to the question by saying: the beginning is known as the alpha, whereas the end is known as the omega. Yet when you look up the word beginning in the dictionary, you get the point of time or space at which anything begins or the first part of something. Then, when you look up the word end, you get the furthest imaginable place or point or the conclusion.
Whether you believe that the correct definition is the response the religious person gave or what the dictionary gave, either way the two words have many different definitions. For me the beginning is a place where I can start over; a place that helps me to heal from my sister's death. Then the end would be a point in time where I won't have to close my eyes every night only to see my sister's face staring right back at me.
"You know staring out the window, won't help," said a thick, deep voice behind me. The voice, even though it was familiar, still caused me to jump.
Turning around I saw my father, the man I haven't seen since my sister's death. "Dad," I screamed as I jumped into his arms. He smelled of the outdoors; my father never believed in staying inside when it was nice out.
"Hey, sweetheart, how are you," he asked pulling me back so he could look at me.
"Better now that you are here," I said smiling. "So are you staying?"
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said. "I can't stay."
"But I haven't seen you for a whole year."
"I know, I'm sorry," he said.
"No, you're not. You don't care about me; all you care about is yourself."
"Ha—." I yanked myself out of his arms and I ran out the back door into the woods to my hiding spot that is for moments that are too rough for me to handle. My place was a little cave in between two big oak trees. I found the cave at the beginning of the 9th grade, on my birthday, August 15th. I wasn't planning on finding it, but I did. The cave was like a gift that Mother Nature had giving me.
It was a gift that I used frequently. Walking into the cave, I could hear the pitter patter of my feet as I treaded down a path I had walked a thousand times. Midway down the path, I stopped at this little crook in the cave wall. I don't know how the hole got into the wall, but ever since I found it, I had been using it to hold a flashlight that I use to explore the cave.
You see as you get past a certain part in the cave, it gets pitch black. I don't really need the flashlight, but I use it anyways because you never know what you could find as you walk farther into the cave.
I picked up the flashlight and turned it. I pointed the beam of the flashlight towards the ground and kept walking. Usually taking a walk through the cave would calm me down, but today it didn't. Today it seemed as if the cave didn't want me there, as if I was trespassing on someone else's land.