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The Emptiness that Fills Me

By Hannah

I escape from the daily discussion about the tragedy of Julius Caesar and drift into my own world. The door to the crammed trailer is open and spring is coming in like a freight train. Usually I do not notice the world around me: the dogwoods that sway back and forth or the blue jay that sings while flying through the air and the white, puffy clouds that drift through the light blue sky. My eyes gazed out the open door and I was looking at the world that I really had never seen before. All of a sudden, my ears opened and I could finally understand why the birds were singing.

As I am listening to the beautiful sound, I think. Just as the song says, "Why do birds sing?" Are they actually singing or is the sound they make a form of communication to the bird in the next dogwood? There may be a scientific answer, but the everyday person will come up with an answer that moves the mind of another person. The answer from the ordinary person may have a deeper meaning than that of the mastermind. From the thought of birds, my thoughts are suspended within the air of my own mind.

As I read the lyrics of "Wrong Way," my mind grabs onto one verse, "What makes you stop and smell the roses in an open field?" My mind has philosophical questions, such as this, that run through it faster than an Olympic runner. And then I will stop. What does make me stop and smell the roses in an open field? Is it instinct, a natural habit, or wanting the gratification of smelling a rose? The answer is endless and never proven. The head that rests upon my shoulders is crammed with unanswered and never-ending questions, such as this.

As I read this verse over and over again, I come up with an answer.

While walking through a field, I can see myself alone in the itching grass up to my knees. As I walk over a small hill in the rolling field, there is a yellow rose in full bloom that has never been touched. My mind ponders why this rose is here all alone in this field. As I approach this beautiful yellow rose, I bend over and smell the silky petals that are glazed over with pollen. While seeing in my mind what I am doing, the question is still, why?

What made me stop and smell this rose? And then I come to a question that does not even relate to the rose, but tome in the open field. Why am I alone in this field?

Seeing a rose all alone in an open field, I am able to see myself standing alone. Alone in a way I can hardly explain. The way the petals of a rose are in the first stages of its growth. They are all intertwined with each other and nothing can escape from the inside. Not one of my feelings can escape from the inside of my body. Soon the rose will be so consumed and will eventually bloom. Soon my feeling will bloom and I will say how I feel.

And then I will not be alone anymore.

Even though I am still young and growing, I have told myself that being alone is okay. Alone is a feeling so hard to express. Being in a room with no pictures on the wall and no windows to look out to see the beautiful world that God has made; that is alone. The feeling of emptiness inside one could make them cringe, but for me that emptiness is just another feeling. Coming back from my mind-boggling journey, my eyes are still fixated upon the nonstop movement of the dogwoods, blue jays, and clouds. My mind finally understands the singing of the birds and just over the nearest building, I can see the green leaves of the dogwood flowing in the air. I then bring my eyes back to the class and my direct attention to the discussion of Brutus being alone. Finally I am not the only one in this world that is alone.