The uninvited guest
She showed up uninvited, but she seemed strangely familiar. She came in with a force that surprised.
She saw me, naked and bare. For everything I was and was not. Yet there was no judgement in her eyes. No, the opposite was written on her face. She saw me not just for who I was, but for who I could be. And she was determined for me to see it too.
Her presence brought comfort and began to open up parts of me that I had long forgotten. She entered into the furthest corners of my being. Slowly, she changed my entire world, gluing together broken pieces, sweeping out the gathered dust, rearranging the overturned furniture, decorating the walls with vibrant colors. Her hands gentle, her breath warm, and her gaze determined—she was creating new life before my very eyes. Before I knew it or could think about it too hard, she was a permanent guest.
Her presence brought not just comfort, but also conviction. Willing me to face my deepest fears and asking me to confront my own darkness. Patiently she worked her magic on me, transforming me one microscopic atom at a time. At first, I barely noticed the changes, so subtle they were, but eventually when I stopped to take inventory I realized that hardly anything was the same anymore. Then the changes felt almost overwhelming. This guest now dominated my entire world and demanded a hearing for all my actions and intentions. She was not pushy, but how could I ignore her steadfast persistence? Sitting there, inviting me to trust her, to surrender to her terms—daring me to imagine a new way of being in the world not based in my past, but potential and possibility.
I cannot keep her to myself, for she herself has taught me that she cannot be confined or contained. Her presence is ever increasing. Yet I feel no sense of loss in this, for with me she is always. Like an old familiar friend, like drops of rain on thirsty ground, like the first rays of morning light wishing me “Good morning”—she has touched me and I will never be the same again.
And so she slipped out the door one night, as suddenly as she came, ready to go and take up residence someplace else with all her transformative goodness. Yet, I have this strange feeling that she is not gone. In fact, I’m not sure that her presence here is compromised at all, for her presence is eternal and her name is love.