Fleeting Moment

I never saw you coming even though I was looking for you. Others did, even warned me, but I couldn't get out of the way. Or didn't want to. Like an tornado, you touched down on the plain of my life in an instant, ripping through me fast and furious. I took the risk and stood there, enjoying the lightning fast moments, the whirling, the spinning, the rush of being alive and yet so close to my definition of death. In this event horizon moment, I stood waiting, deciding, thinking, trying to determine if the risk was too great. Fall in and who knows what happens? Do I spin up with the others you've collected, whipped around and still enjoying the ride, perhaps oblivious to whatever else is happening? It is not your fault. Or do I resist the pull, like the lone brick chimney of a homestead house left standing after everything else has been rushed away? 

In the end, through no fault of your own, I do a little of both. I stretched myself between two worlds - the one I am comfortable in and the one I want to (or think I want to) be in. It was a rush, a fleeting moment of euphoria I typically only experience after a long ride. I allowed myself, with your help, to feel things I've not felt in over half a decade. So it still is possible, even when all seems lost, I muse. Funny, I thought that was long gone, buried under the rubble of past storms. Rubble I tried to sort through but have long since given up the effort. Maybe that's why this time I was more hesitant - looking back at those past messes makes one wonder if it is worth it. In the end, I think it is, even if some of the bricks in the chimney, including the ones at the base, are moved a little off-kilter. I will rebuild this time, pick up the pieces from the brief and exhilarating encounter, and wait for the next time. 

The next time. The next time when you, or one like you, draws near and sucks me in. It is unlikely I will learn to take cover in the storm cellar but I will probably be more careful about the F-level of the storm to which I choose to submit. This is a decision I will need to make respectfully without you because I don't think you can help it. When I look into those sky blue eyes, the depths of the ocean reflect so clearly one can't help but believe in your innocence. The depth of this blue existed in the tenuous calm before and now after, the latter something with which my previous experiences left me unfamiliar. Is this the acceptance I have struggled with in the past? Is it growth? Am I learning to swim? I don't believe it is indifference because I would like to hope apathy is yet nonexistent in my soul. 

In the end, I will bide my time and maybe the future forecast will be just as innocent, just as breathtaking, but less catastrophic.