Each footstep echoes a little less than the previous one. As he approaches the door, his step lightens and he hesitates before reaching out and grabbing the handle to the door. A pause to collect random thoughts he never imagined he would ever have to think. The version of himself about to enter the room is not the same person who would crossed that threshold just 2 years before. Steadying his emotions and calming his nerves, he opens the door and walks in, taking an empty seat. He becomes part of a greater narrative.
The volunteer eventually calls the man's number and he departs his chair and ambles across the room avoiding eye contact even though on one is watching. He does not like being the center of attention because recent activities have rendered him a bystander in his own life. He hated clichés and knew that others viewed him as one. This room, the volunteer asking him questions, the stale coffee in the non-biodegradable cup he held in his grip... All elements to an impersonal stereotype. He was a number and piece of data that would be viewed and processed and entered into a computer as a statistic.
Except, he wasn't.
He was more than a number and an entry on a clipboard. The circumstances that relegated him to this new place in life were irrelevant. He could play the victim and wallow in the very real misery that accompanied him. The sadness in his life stemmed from actual events and he was entitled to the frustration that crept in when he closed his eyes at night and pretended to sleep. But he wouldn't succumb to these emotions. He acknowledged them and moved on. Too many others expected him dwindle and drown in his situation, but he decided he would script a different tale.
And, showing up was the first step. Refusing to be a victim meant that he was taking charge over his life and he would now dictate the direction. The initial step to the process was shedding the idea that he was powerless and had to accept his situation. He knew this was a trap and understood he had resources and people who wanted to help. The room around him faded and the words of the volunteer trailed off as he surveyed his surroundings. His posture stiffened. Clarity resounded in his mind and he knew this day would be a clean start. His rebirth was underway and an ever so slight smile graced his mouth as he sipped the tepid coffee.
His footsteps had a difference cadence as he walked the return trip down the hallway.
No comments:
Post a Comment