The Point Of No Return.

I watched her take that last step of indecision into the space in time that is the most paralyzing. The place where she was perfectly balanced between the person she’d been and the mystery of who she would become.

She’d changed enough on her journey that stepping back into the old life would drive her to insanity, but not enough to step forward the six inches that would put her in a world she wouldn’t recognize.

The expressions on her face were fascinating to see as they changed from sorrow, to anger, then terror, and at last, a fierce joy. I was certain she would take the step then, but still she remained frozen. I wondered how many times I would see this cycle before she made her choice. It disturbed me to not know the answer to that, to not be certain.

I saw friends and family around her, some urging her forward, others calling her back to them. There were one or two on the other side, waiting patiently for her to decide between the certain and the unknown. They said very little, seeming to understand that she had become deaf to all but the whispering of everything inside her that mattered.

I decided to wait with the quiet ones at The Point of No Return, to see her face if she actually took that last step. For some reason, it was critical to me that I see her face in that moment. I wondered what I would write about her when all was said and done. Would it be a mysterious adventure or a tragedy that would cause me to weep long after I quit writing?

The general consensus among the crowd on the far side was that she had lost her mind, possibly a breakdown that could be treated with drugs or therapy. Maybe she was sick in some way and hadn’t told anyone, or maybe she was just a fool. All they could see was that she would be leaving comfort and social acceptance. Some just thought of her as selfish to destroy so much for some flighty need to feed the fire in her that was barely flickering.

I could almost see the same questions running through her mind as she stood there, her eyes not blinking as she stared out at something only she could see. Regret, indecision and guilt warred with a ferocity of purpose that made me look over my shoulder to see what she saw ahead of her. There was nothing I could see, but I knew she saw it clearly, whatever it was.

I know now in retrospect that she was staring at her second chance. The last and final opportunity to leave behind all that was dead and meaningless, including those who had regarded her, and all she longed for, as meaningless. I understand now, the desperation that she felt to have come that far and been so close and not know if she had the courage to move even one step further.

At the time, I didn’t know these things. All I saw was a woman frozen between two worlds, afraid to make a decision. I saw someone lost, angry, rebellious and afraid. She was a wildcard to me at that moment. I had no idea what she would do next, and I was caught up in the moment. I wanted to jump up and shout something that would make her take the step.

Whatever she decided was going to affect all of us in a big way. I knew that for sure. I think maybe that’s what held her frozen at that point. Knowing clearly all the lives that would change if she changed hers. Wondering if she were strong enough, smart enough or brave enough to begin again.

When she closed her eyes and lowered her head, my heart began to pound in a mixture of dread and anticipation. I found myself whispering for her to please take the step, please don’t look back, please. I watched her bowed head and sent her every bit of strength I could find whether it mattered or not. We all leaned forward, sensing that she was about to make her move one way or the other.

We both lifted our heads and looked across the space between us into each other’s eyes.

There was a lead ball in my gut, and my breathing matched the pounding of my heart as we waited, breathing as one.

Everyone froze as we turned to look at the life behind us. Then, without a word, we spun around and took the last step, not looking back or flinching at the roar of the bridges burning behind us. There was no going back. We bowed our heads once more, touching our foreheads together gently, reverently against the coolness of the mirror. Then we lifted our heads, and squared our shoulders, as I looked into my own eyes.

I will never forget the look on her face when she smiled at me. She was me. And I was free.


Shelly Aspenson
Shelly Aspenson is on a journey of rediscovering her passion for poetry and creative writing. She is brushing away the debris of past choices and limitations and re-creating her reality as she finds her voice, personal truth, and way through the moments. She is a recovering mute and you can hear her voice on Facebook or her website. She writes everyday in some way to keep her passion and joy alive, whether it be poetry, greeting cards, her blog, or working on her first book -- so long forgotten in the dusty drawer.
Shelly Aspenson
Shelly Aspenson

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