The Hand

I sit, I pace, I think, I wonder, I blankly stare. I pack up our life or what was our life, and I wonder whose life it really was. I wake up every day seeing the fog slowly clear. The fog that has clouded my judgement and vision for so long. It is uncertain whether this mist is settling or dissipating all together, and I am not actually sure which would be better or if it even matters. I am just glad it is leaving. This fog has kept me blind for so long that all I could do was merely reach out and grab the first hand I could feel. I have spent my life searching for a the next fingertip to graze mine, then I could grab another hand and let it pull me further. I am not exactly sure when this fog rolled in, and from a forecaster's perspective I do know that I was not warned of it. Some hands I grabbed along the way were only pulling me deeper into the abyss. So deep that it became more confusing than a maze, and all the strength I had was to sit on the ground balled up and wait. The last hand that I hope to ever have to take was the one that possibly saved my life. This hand found me and reached out to help me up. Over the past few years this hand pulled me so close to the edge of the fog that I could feel it's nearing end. I let go..... Was this hand going to pull me the rest of the way? Was this hand going to pull me through the edge of the fog and immerse me in immediate sunlight? While the notion was overwhelmingly comforting, it was still unsatisfying. I reached out to take the hand again and realized that my arm wouldn't raise. I knew what my mind wanted but my body wouldn't listen. Puzzled, I sat back down. This hand came into the fog again and grabbed my hand, hoisting me up with little effort, then it let go and was gone. At first I wondered why it left me... but as I stood there at the edge of the fog I then realized that this hand understood. I was one last clasp from never needing a hand to grab again. Standing at the edge of the fog I waited, for what, I am not sure. That is when the fog began to clear. As it cleared I looked down to find that I was on a path. I turned and looked behind me, and turned and looked ahead. This path was the longest path I have ever seen. As I looked back again I saw for miles and miles, what seemed like it might be the circumference of the earth unraveled. But this path was so windy and hilly and contained forks, bends, and even roundabouts. I wanted so badly to go back and fix it. Why can't it be a straight path? Why can't it be beautifully paved with flowers lining the edges along the way? I looked ahead again and noticed the path in front of me was not visible in the distance. The horizon was so close, it seemed, that it cut off my vision to the rest of the path. And then I was aware, for the first time, that I was supposed to be on it. Suddenly I felt the sun's warmth in every pore and every cell of exposed skin. I could feel my body eating its rays like they had been starved to the brink of death. I closed my eyes and saw that hand, I wanted so badly to hold onto it again, if only for a second. I opened my eyes and saw it. It was waving at me off in the distance. It was on a different path and as my eyes followed its course back I saw it connect to mine not far behind me. It was no longer on my path though. I wanted to just sit down again, I turned to look at the hand again and it waved me on. An encouraging nudge to start moving. I smiled, turned, and began to take the first step on my own...