NEW CASTLE —
I lie alone in bed tonight, nestled between the freshly laundered sheets, a mountain of pillows and my solitude.
The lonely room casts long exaggerated shadows on all four walls and across my warm, content face. A dime store candle dances on the tattered night stand while a forgotten, love sick tune oozes from the aging radio.
Outside my walls winter has raised its frigid head and is whistling past my window with all its might. The wind is driving sleet into the pane of glass in my less than modern window.
The seconds pass and slowly turn to minutes and the sleet transforms into lush and beautiful snow flakes. As the moments pass the flakes begin to accumulate, forming a small pile in the corner my window. They cling to one another forming an intricate structure that would amaze any structural engineer. Bonding together in an effort to prolong their simplistic existence. Holding on for dear life as Mother Nature does her best to push them along their finite life cycle.
As I ponder these few flakes I realize that each one of these has an interesting and unique story. A story of how it came to rest in this very place. Its birth, its life and inevitable demise. Deep within the fabric of their simplistic existence lies the basis of our human lives, the factors that make us what we are and who we will become.
As we delve deeper into the web of human experience, below the daily bustle and frustration, beyond the emotions and drama, there lies our experiences. These are the very structure of our lives, the building blocks of a man. What make you and I what we are. Be it horrific experiences or the tender caress of a mother's voice, those echos of reality alter our direction in life thus changing our story and testimony. Our past has an uncanny ability to amplify our present, silently guiding our decisions and judgment.
If we are not aware of this force acting upon our psyche we can easily fall victim to the folly of our uncontrolled minds and its relentless regurgitation of the past. Moreover, we can wrap ourselves into any imaginary “butterfly effect,” spinning our world out of control by basing our future on the “what-ifs” or the “should-ofs.”
Now with all the existentialism out of the way, I guess I should stop staring out the window and get out of bed to shovel all the snow out of the driveway so those precious flakes can add another chapter to their lives.
Josh Drespling
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About Josh Drespling: Josh is a former graphic designer at The News. His blog appears each Saturday.
Discussion
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