"The Things We Lost in The Fire"

I watched that movie, "The Things we Lost in the Fire," about a month ago. Halle Berry cried so hard for her husband, the kind of agonizing cry that you gasp for air, that you scream a screeching echoing howl, the kind that resonates in your heart...she cried so hard after the fire, after the death, after the memories that I cried right along with her as if my house, too, had burned down. It wasn't until recently did I realize that yes, indeed, my house burned down. I cry for it sometimes; I long for it all the time, but it will never be mind again.

One of the greatest confrontations you will face in life is with your past. And the hardest thing you'll have to do is accept change, move on, and leave that past behind.

I wasn't ready to let go of 2088 and Ryer for a long time, not until February of this year. I realized that those I left behind on Ryer had to stay there, because I left this behind because they couldn't keep up. This epiphany came about with lots of heartach, betrayal and disappointments by both the men and woman i loved...and I guess whom I shall always love...but loving someone and leaving someone may go hand in hand. You can love someone so much that it damages you, that it becomes unhealthy, especially when you sacrifice yourself to ensure their survival.

I continued to cling to these unhealthy organisms, a symbiosis, that at first granted me some kind of benefit and later became blood thirsty leaches, sucking me dry. My friendships and relationships were established around the same block to ensure my connection with my home. I just couldn't leave. I didn't know how.

Recently after a bad break up, the savior of love entered my life, re nurturing me and giving me faith in love, in men, in relationships. How sweet right? Yeah, love that's cool and all...but what he doesn't know is that he gave me such a greater gift. He gave me the strength to leave Ryer for good. He made me want to be better, to start on a new clean slate, to escape the gossip, the reputations and the crippling hold that Ryer had on all my relationships. He made me want more than Ryer; and help to accept that change for the better should be embraced and enjoyed. If it weren't for him, I fear I would have made my way to that familiar zone that ravishes me from integrity, from aspirations, from success.

Now, I can look back with fond memory and simply walk away. I can forgive my mother and actually thank her and I can finally let go. I am free.