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Not a Long Goodbye

It was not a long goodbye. The rabbits were determined to make it less dramatic and traumatic promising that somehow he would know they were always and forever around. They looked forward to seeing him thrive, seeing him move forward, and proceeding head long into his purpose, and they told him so. Though Sam was not entirely sold on all those things, after all the future was a bit broad at 12 years old to nail it down to anything in particular. He was thinking purely of what he wanted to be when he grew up; maybe a fireman, business man, chef? Who knew? He was not thinking what the rabbits were thinking about; a restored and whole individual able to do whatever he wanted.

So Sam stood on the outside of the tunnel, unable to avoid the overwhelming sensation that comes with the unknown, the sensation that always feels like trauma for the one that was raised in trauma. Unable to distinguish the healthy unknown from unhealthy chaos. Older people that have struggled with trauma find a way of avoiding situations, way in advance, that involve this sensation. Living their lives with nothing new on the horizon, by choice. Any jolt out of the mundane is met with an equal force of determined obstinance to stay right where they are. Sam was given a chance, here. He knew that. So as the wave of the unknown flooded over him, he looked around to see what he could find in the way of “the Source”. The next step. He was learning to trust. Learning to lean into the unknown.

“Where?” He whispered to himself, but not without fervour. He was looking, not because perhaps he missed the fact that there was a huge river in front of him, no, there was no river in sight, but instead of getting discouraged he looked for a tiny stream that might lead to it.

No sign of any water flowing, anywhere, so he stopped to listen.




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