Monologue (?)

Have you ever had one of those moments when you can feel everything? Your entire being is hit with what feels like a shovel to the head and you're left there, mezmorized. Every breeze, every sound feels like the beginning of the world and you're the one person lucky enough to be in the middle of it all.

I'm not sure if I've ever believed in God. Or any of those other higher beings who I've been too lazy to check out. But I know, I really believe that there is something happening here that I can't understand. Or, if I can understand it, I'm sure I'm not ready to handle it.

Once, when I was nine, my mom and dad were arguing and I went downstairs to the kitchen to nuzzle myself into this make-shift hiding place I had created under our sink. But, on the way I noticed that the back door was partly open. That door was never open. We even had bits of bright orange tape on the floor, encircling it. I would sit at the kitchen table some mornings and stare at that tape. It was like a ward. Every glance at that little semi-circle of tape made my heart beat against my ribs like a caged gorilla. And now, there it was. There was light coming through. I could feel the air coming in and brushing up against me. I awkwardly waddled over, reached out my hand, and grabbed the edge of the rotting wood door. It was weightless. I took a breath and stretched the opening further and further until there was nothing between me and the world.

I had never seen the sun before. Not like this. There was nothing beyond that doorway but sky. I could look straight down and see the Harbor splashing up towards me. I got hit with that shovel and couldn't do anything but breathe. No distractions, no wounds, not even any excitement. Just an overwhelming feeling that I was in the center of the world. That......whatever it is that's out there...was watching. It was living in front of me, breathing with me, showing me something achingly beautiful. Telling me that it was, and still is possible. That it, whatever it is, was there. And, even though I haven't felt it since then, I hope that it knows how grateful I am for it.