I was doing a quiz earlier this evening, and came across question 13FNa. I was flippant in my answer, but the asking hung in the back of my mind. And the question turned on me, and asked itself again and again - as such things are wont to do. And I knew in that moment I had not been honest, not in the post, and not in my own mind. I had never truly appreciated the gift I was given - better to say I realized not the gift it was - nor to this day do I begin to say I understand how (or as important, why) it was passed.
As such, I never truly knew how to thank the giver. A simple "thank you" seems now as it did at the time; totally inadequate in scope. What she gave that cold night in December as we danced by firelight -- it seems to have happened another lifetime ago -- was nothing less than the key to my own soul.
How do you thank someone for opening your eyes? Like my own private Road to Damascus, that starlit night pried the scales from my eyes. I was stripped bare of the doubts and self-pity I had swathed myself in for so long; and was set free from the coccoon of self-loathing that had long shadowed my soul so deeply that in the night I feared the darkness within. By the light of the fire, she burned away the dark mantle with friendship I have cherished daily.
That night, so long ago, she gave what noone else could. She showed me love, the love given freely between friends who trust one another fully [no matter how I later tried to decieve myself thinking it was more]; but more important, she healed the scars left by another by showing that even stripped bare of all the trapping, I was worthy of being loved. And in that, she gave me the greatest gift of all.
As such, I never truly knew how to thank the giver. A simple "thank you" seems now as it did at the time; totally inadequate in scope. What she gave that cold night in December as we danced by firelight -- it seems to have happened another lifetime ago -- was nothing less than the key to my own soul.
How do you thank someone for opening your eyes? Like my own private Road to Damascus, that starlit night pried the scales from my eyes. I was stripped bare of the doubts and self-pity I had swathed myself in for so long; and was set free from the coccoon of self-loathing that had long shadowed my soul so deeply that in the night I feared the darkness within. By the light of the fire, she burned away the dark mantle with friendship I have cherished daily.
That night, so long ago, she gave what noone else could. She showed me love, the love given freely between friends who trust one another fully [no matter how I later tried to decieve myself thinking it was more]; but more important, she healed the scars left by another by showing that even stripped bare of all the trapping, I was worthy of being loved. And in that, she gave me the greatest gift of all.
She gave me hope.
In that hope, I found a true love of my own. It will never be enough to just say "thank you", it is a soul-deep debt I can never truly repay.
FNa Dead Link, text follows:
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Yes, but the terms of service say I can't tell you about it.
FNa Dead Link, text follows:
13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Yes, but the terms of service say I can't tell you about it.
