The Crossroad

part 0

I grew up never knowing the beauty of the ocean. Never experiencing the bliss and peace created by the crashing of waves against rocks older than I dare to think. Seeing the water, a seemingly unbreakable force, break and create something even more amazing than it already is in it's original form was the greatest beauty I could imagine. It always seamed so impossible to reach, yet I wanted to try. I needed to try. 

I had no idea where to begin, since no one could tell me where the ocean is. They all didn't care or had other things on their mind than help me find the one place I knew I'd feel at ease at. I knew i had to start somewhere, so I started walking. For hours, days, and seemingly weeks. I was alone, but never lonely, knowing that everything will be worth it once I reach the ocean. 

I was exhausted. I have been walking for a month or even longer. Time passes strangely when all you have to occupy yourself with is your mind. And with enough thinking comes doubt. The road that stretched out in front of me seamed to go on forever and actually increase with every step I took. It wasn't something I was prepared for. After another day of walking through whatever deserted place I was in, I reached a crossroad.

There were three roads all leading in different direction, and between each of them was a bench. An old lady was sitting on one of them. She was starring straight ahead at something possibly only visible to her, judging from the way she looked. It seemed as if she had never left this place and spend all of her life sitting on this bench, making her the official guard of the crossroad. 

The other bench was empty, and it was nearly impossible to see due to willow tree standing right behind it, covering the bench with its' branches.

Close to panicking, I walked up to the old lady, asking her, begging her which way lead to the ocean. I had come all this way, turning around seemed impossible and frightening. What would everyone say at home? "She can't even find an ocean by herself! Come on, it's a pretty big puddle n kinda hard to miss!" Just the thought of this resulted in my eyes filling with tears.But the lady seamed to not notice. She just kept starring ahead. Only once I screamed at her to "fucking tell me where the ocean is " she looked up and gave me a smile: "that is something you will have to figure out yourself my dear" was all she said before she continued to stare at something supposedly right in front of her. This infuriated me. I had no clue which road to take or who to ask since there was no one else around. I was exhausted. I decided to take a break and sit on the bench under the willow tree. I wept. I lost my dream, my dignity and my temper. Everything I dreamed of and that gave me the will to get up and achieve was not breaking apart inform of me like the waves I will never get to see. After an hour I got up and left. What else was there to do? The fear of taking the wrong path and not knowing where it leads to seamed more terrifying than what I had to face when I went back. I may never reach the ocean at all if I take the wrong path, and even if I took the right one I'll never know how long it would take me to reach my goal. Turning back seamed easier..safer.

The old lady has been sitting where she always sits for about an hour or two after she got yelled at. Due to her constant sitting over the past few years any movement became very painful to her. Yet she raised her hand to dry of the single tear she shed for the woman that yelled and wept and yelled and wept..Her goal was so close yet she never realised, blinded by her fear of decisions, that any one of the three paths, and all of them in only a few hours, would have brought her to the ocean, and therefor a completed dream.