The souls light

Three doors down the hall and to the left is the room that hasn't been opened since we lost her. It's been a year since she disappeared form our lives. Her light, her warmth, her essence; now gone. 

Tip-toeing down the hall, trying to be as quiet as a mouse, i make my way to the holy ground. If I were to be found out, it would all be over. The door handle is dull and unpolished form its lack of use. A forgotten tool.

Placing my hand ever so tenderly on the handle i twist it cautiously. The door inches further forward, as slow as a nail.  The rusty hinges start to creak in protest. After squeezing through the small crack that the tight hinges have allowed, i am met with a sight.

The studio that was her's now covered in a layer of dust. The morning sun begins to creep through the open window. The sky a symphony of pinks, blues, golds and purples, giving life to all. Golden rays of light illuminate the film of dust, making look like hidden treasure. 

Should I trespass onto this holy land. The smell of old paint an the morning dew create a familiar smell. Her smell. It fills my soul, and I cross the line. 

Piles of books and papers tower like skyscrapers. My heart matches the pace of the humming bird that sings and dances in the new morning light. My skin crawls at the touch of the nights cold air, reluctant to leave this sacred ground.

I must find it. The one thing that could feed my soul and bring her closer to me. Moving through the sea of clutter, her gems and jewels glitter in the morning sun. A moth, once dirty and scary, fly's across the room, now beautiful and lively. It lands softly on a pile of her music scores.

I begin to doubt myself. I shouldn't be here. If I were to be found it would be the end. My conscience begins to repeat the words my father had said over and over again. 

"This is her place. you don't go there. Stay away from it."

My stomach begins to churn, and my throat threatens to close, the the strong vice of a Venus fly trap. My palms go clammy with nerves. They win over me. I turn to leave. I don't belong here. The golden light begins to dance with the film of dust, that's been stirred from its eternal slumber by my presence. 

I can't take it anymore. My pace quickens as I fly towards the door. The exit of this heavenly place. In my clumsiness and haste to leave something catches my foot; sending me to the ground. A pile of music scores. The one that lies on top titled "The Souls Food". She had composed it not long before she unwillingly left us. I remember her telling me that written it for me. she had hoped that my life would be fed with joy, adventure and freedom. 

It gives me new found courage. I pick myself up and, more determined than ever, begin my search again. i follow the direction of moth i'd seen before. leading me to a cupboard. in that cupboard I find the black case. A spiders web, sparkling silver like fragile silk, lay over it.

placing my fingers on the cold metal locks I open the case. The small click echoing through the room. The treasure inside the same as I remember. The violin as beautiful as the reddest ruby.

I place the bow on the strings tenderly, as if it were a newborn baby. Playing the notes of the song for me. I am filled with warmth by the melody. As the sun continues to rise over the horizon i feel her essence with me. filling me up with her warmth, love and passion. Like the warm embrace of the mother she was, and always will be.

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