34
"You know, you can't run away." "I'm not running away. I'm running to." My feet pounded on the sidewalk in the night. My purse bounced on my hip as I tried to hold it back and keep it from hindering my steps. It was hard to see in the night. Streetlamps cast an orange glow over the silent street. Sleepy houses sat quiet, unaware of the story unfolding. I lied a little bit. I wanted to run away. I wanted to find the church, but I wasn't thinking straight. The street wavered before me through a film of salt water. I was trying to stop the tears. I kept running, wishing the sidewalk stretched for miles. The footsteps following me weren't running. Across the street, over the grass and to Him I ran. A poor representation of the Real Presence, I sat down cross-legged on the pavement and closed my eyes. I tried to forget the darkness of the night and of my soul. The sadness in my heart. I talked to Him. Prayed to Him. I half-listened to the footsteps coming towards me, a minute or two later. I prayed. Sitting there, I knew this moment would have to end. I just asked Him how to muster the strength to stand up and walk back, in silence. Before, I was running away. Away from moments, memories, refusal to accept... Running to---was the only way. The only way I could see possible to distract from that dark night. The silent night. The only way to keep myself from wanting to freeze time. Forever.