One week a graduate and my old body feels submerged in an ocean. Not gone. Nor out of sight. But a statue of stone has been buried deep away. It sits now at rest, accumulating bright coral and wavering tentacles of seaweed.
The inner flesh has left the stoney frame. It is propelled toward the shimmering light at the water’s surface. Reaching the surface of a new life, this fleshy newborn swims an endless barrage of waves toward an unseen island. The island remains surely in the distance, but the only assurance of its existence is the relentless motion she makes towards it. Ever assured of its presence, the swim shall continue.
One of my professors this past semester claimed that metaphor is everything; we see everything relative to something else. …That metaphor is the language all humans speak.
My mind hesitated to accept such a poetic generalization, but my heart now tells me it is true.
Now, I can only think in metaphor. It is the only way I can see because, fighting through these waves and swallowing sea water, I only can make sense of what lies ahead through what I have seen behind me. The past is clear as day and my future looms hazy and uncertain.
Graduation was lovely and bright. The startling beauty of the day – mid 70s and sunny with fresh green swaths of cut lawn and newly blooming rhododendron – made a neat paradox with the violent storm in my heart.
Writing how I shall miss Bates is quite useless, for I now this violent storm all too well.
It comes from how I shall miss you.