Forward: Crossroads is a piece I wrote quite awhile ago. I was in a particularly stressful situation and whenever that happens my release is to write. Like many of my pieces, it flowed out of me onto paper very quickly and I felt much better. When faced with such resistance, with judgement and dislike I was at a crossroads and needed to make a change. At the time I shared this piece of myself and nothing changed. It was like it was never really heard. Changes have been made since and this piece is something I’m proud of. It illustrates the feelings I couldn’t otherwise show. I have been told I have a gift with words. Perhaps now, sharing this with others it will inspire someone else to make that change and stand up for themselves. 

                                    Crossroads

I’ve been here before, at a crossroads where a decision needs to be made and I’m unsure of which direction to take.

Change is inevitable and I have experienced more than I can handle.

I stand in front of this fork in the road and I know I must make a choice. I’ve heard the description of insanity is to do the same thing over and over and to expect a different result. I cannot logically continue down the same path.

Before I arrived at the crossroads where a decision of direction was required, I was walking with a friend. We shared similar ideas and respected one another. But then things changed and I found myself shoved off the road and into the ditch, alone. Down in the ditch, it was a tangle of overgrown weeds, hard to navigate and every step my foot got heavier. Energy drained from me with even the simplest of things. Perhaps it was the weight of my decision that slowed me down, was I to stay in the weeds or get back up on the road? I stumbled with the knowledge that I was the one who needed to make a change. I am a fighter, I knew I could do it. I could stomp down the weeds and get back up on the road. It’s just that when you’re pushed down so many times it gets harder and harder to get back up. It took me a few attempts, the old saying playing in my head “That which does not kill us only makes us stronger.” I want to be strong so I raised my head higher, stood straighter and forced my way back up, onto the road.

Now as I stand before the fork in the road, I can see down both sides. On one side, the road starts off very steep and in the horizon, there is a mix of grey with dark clouds full of rain. There is road construction and barricades to overcome. This is the road my friend has chosen without me. No discussion as to why or even an invitation to join her. There are others on this road some I recognize, some that have taken priority over me. The road is crowded. I wonder if this road looked differently to my friend, as challenging and difficult as it does to me. 

I look down the other side of the road. It is bright and beautiful but I cannot see to the end. I squint my eyes and just past an open meadow, I can see a covered bridge that will guide me safely over a river of rushing water but I can’t see further than that. The sky is a brilliant blue and there is lush grass and green trees everywhere. Birds are chirping and bunnies hopping. The sunshine warms my face and I hear the laughter of loved ones I cannot see.

I picture choosing that road, but it would mean leaving my friend. What if she does need me to help navigate those obstacles? She has no umbrella or jacket to ward off the coming storm, I have both, I would share. I watch her and notice that she is carrying a backpack full of water and snacks. I watch as she struggles up that steep embankment. She stops a second, finds a good foothold and a place to anchor her hand. As she hikes the backpack higher to shift the weight, I see her offer her free hand to help a stranger up. I stand here with my decision and witness my friends’ tiredness but I know her determination and watch as she helps the next person up and the one after that. She offers water from her pack and I’ve yet to see her take even one sip. Her hand trembles on the ledge she’s clinging to but I know she’s thinking “I can help just a few more.”

I look the other way. The sunshine and the birds, the laughter and the bridge. What’s past the bridge I wonder but cannot see.

As I go to move forward I glance over at my friend hoping she’s searching for me. She is no longer on the embankment but back down at the bottom, her backpack depleted of supplies, even her shoes are missing as she must have offered them to someone in need. I want to go to her to turn this around and find a third path. But in all this while she has not once looked for me, not once called my name. I am forgotten, crumbled up and thrown away, like the “white trash” I was once called.

Memories flash before me. I know the kindness in her heart, her willing spirit but I can’t continue to watch anyone else abuse her. I just can’t. Surely someone will come along and care for her, protect her and value her gifts. Not just use her till she’s barefoot and alone on the bottom of an embankment with no food, no water, no protection.

I’ve spent the day here in the shade of a giant oak tree, contemplating my choices. I’ve watched families frolic and eat picnic lunches. I saw a puppy chasing a butterfly and a new mother gently rock her baby to sleep, all with the warmth of the sun. Across the way I see my friend shiver as she’s finally fallen asleep. I get to my feet and walk quietly across the road to her side. I gently place my jacket over her and tuck the other half of my lunch under her arm. I watch her awhile longer, say a silent prayer and hope my choice is the right one as it’s the only one I have left.