'Are all my sins accounted for?' I ask the Ferryman
One by one I trail my fingers along the book bindings in this library of life.
'Was it ever enough?' I say now more to myself than to him.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see him nod slightly. I can feel my eyes prickle just like when you are about to cry, yet the tears never end up coming.
'you have a real talent for picking people who will abandon you, yet you still loved. Those sins you speak of are merely moments wasted.'
'Healing isn't linear. I tried to fix myself with other people.'
'Yet these people hurt you and you still tried? weren't you miserable'
'sometimes.' My fingers trail the spines of each book, each book being a significant moment in what someone would call a lifetime. 'Do you ever get sad meeting people here? Looking at their lives?'
My eyes can't focus on the ferryman's shape, but vaguely to me, they look like a buffalo Bill type of person. Yet their voice is as clear as a record.
'After meeting so many of you. You get used to it. But somehow you are just one of those cases that puzzle me.' Their figure moves along the shelves as if looking for a particular book. 'You were so kind, yet so so convinced you were the scum of the earth. Not only that. But the fact you've been here so often. Most only visit once or twice before never returning. But you? This library is as big as the lost library of Alexandria'
I didn't really look further than the shelves I was faced at. But now I see how vast the hallways and floors stocked to the brim with books.
'Most people have a public library at most. But this? You really wanted to learn something huh?'
'I guess so.' Silence fills the air 'Did I do it this time?'
'My dear...." they shuffle away 'You have centuries of experience. You've lived so many lives. Yet you never seem to be satisfied'
'Perhaps there is more to learn. To understand.' my eyes are glued to the ceiling, magnificent paintings of what I can assume where my life or lives on display. I feel at home here. The Ferryman puts his hand on my shoulder.
'Isn't it time to put this all to rest?' I cannot face them.
'But, I feel so at home here. If I don't go back, I won't see you anymore.'
'It's time to let go.'
'Please.' I turn to face them, peeling my eyes away from the painting to see their distorted smile. 'One more chance? One last thing to learn.'
'What would that be this time?'
'Letting you go.' I smile back. 'I will always try to find you.'
'You won't.'
'I know. So we will have to meet here.' I open my arms and spin in a circle 'We can always have this place'
They laugh a bellowing laugh. 'Out of everyone. You never open a book of your lives. You stand here and talk to me for millennia. And every time you go back.'
They grab my hand. 'Are you ready?'
I nod. 'Until next time.'
'Until next time.' Leading me out of the back door of the library.
I'm engulfed in white light. My whole body feels warm. And then I hear it. A familiar bird song paired with the feeling of the sun on my face.
I can do it. I can do it this time.
