The Day Fear Took You Hostage.
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A knock on my door. Soft at first.
You knock harder. I run to open it.
Who could it be?
There you stand on my front porch. An earthly stranger with familiar blue eyes. A past-life lover.
Your arms are full — overflowing with the fabric of your love. I offer to help carry it inside.
As I rifle through your love, I am amazed by its tenderness. Like a vintage blanket, its frayed edges from your past pain force me to resist the awkward urge to wrap myself up in it. Boldly, I ask if I can hang on to it for a while. You hesitate at first, but then you’re quickly excited to let me.
I carefully fold your love so that it can be stored safely in my house. It is so large I wonder how you’ve carried this around for so long. I wonder how it hasn’t found a home to share. One night you ask for us to sleep under your love. You share stories of the distressed seams. You choke up showing me its torn edges.
We sleep many cold winter nights under your love. I begin to grow fond of its defects, memorizing all their once hard to find places.
Months pass and I no longer store your love away. We carry it to beachside bonfires. To fireworks on the 4th of July. We pack it with us for our camping trip to the mountains.
Then one autumn day, there’s a knock on my door.
Soft at first, and then louder, faster. Angry. Hurried.
Who could it be?
I am immediately afraid. I reach for your love and wrap myself in it.
There you stand on my front porch, and this time you’re not alone.
Fear stands behind you with a gun to your head as you outstretch your arms and say, “I need my love back.”
I wasn’t sure I heard you right. You reach for it and intentionally rip a frayed edge-piece off. “You can keep this piece,” you add, as you quickly snatch up the rest of your love, clinging to it for seemingly dear life.
The torn piece fits safely in my palm. I am left bewildered. Cold. Lost and confused — rubbing what’s left of your love between my fingers — I am immediately brought to tears.
“What is the difference?” you ask, unaware of the painful message in this gesture. “You still have some. Nothing really changes.”
You still have some. Nothing really changes.
The words haunt me today.
Haunted by the day Fear held you hostage, and with a gun to your head, made you take your love back.
And that’s the thing with Love.
Love has no takebacks.
I try to keep going. Holding on to what love you allow me to have — feeling exposed, insecure. I start to wonder if someone else is holding on to other pieces of this same love. Why else would I be left with such a small piece?
Winter comes and I grow colder — the flame of hope that your love might return begins to fade. This small piece of love turns into a bitter reminder of the expansive gift it once was and I am left to find a drawer for it.
You still tell me that you don’t understand why it is any different. That you simply want to hold on to your love. That you won’t make the same mistake you did last time — letting it get ruined in someone else’s arms.
And that’s the thing with Love.
It can be torn apart by its emotional cousin, Fear.
Once you’ve felt the embrace of whole, warm, vulnerable love, it can’t be minimized to a convenient travel-sized version. Once you’ve built a home for Love, it can’t be downsized.
But Fear will always come knocking — and sometimes it wins.
The moment your partner is taken hostage by Fear and asks for part of their love back, it’s over. Holding on to a smaller piece simply isn’t fair. You’ve slept under more. You’ve wrapped yourself in more. You know Love better than this. You deserve so much more than this.
Above all, remember this: Love isn’t meant to be given in small, safe, convenient, pieces. Love is meant to be given in its whole, unabashed, unrestrained, intended form.
Love of any other shape is simply Fear’s bullet casings.
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Alison Dupra was born at the corner of practicality and unrestrained love. She has a fear of small talk, and falls in love with the vulnerability in others more every day. Alison is a fitness enthusiast, videographer and tech nerd, all in one. She is a believer in second chances and consistent follow-through. Alison lives life with her heart on her sleeve, and wants to make a safe space for everyone around her to do the same. You can find her getting lost in the mountains somewhere on the East coast with her german shepherd dog, Tikka.
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