A Short Story

The room was bathed in glorious sunlight. Dust particles bounced through the air, twinkling like fairy dust as the sun hit them. I glanced around the room. My room. In the corner was my comfy old chair. The royal blue had faded. The seat had an imprint, just the same size as me. My patchwork cushion that I made in the third year lay squished at the side of the chair. I ran my hand across the arm – smooth, warm velveteen. How many times had I done that? I was going to miss that old chair.

My eyes strayed towards the cushion. I picked it up and hugged it close. It felt familiar. Should I take it? No it would only remind me of here. Of the place where I belonged. I reluctantly placed it back in the corner of the chair.

I continued my journey around the room. My eyes took in the window. The brilliant white nets blinding my eyes in the sunlight. Outside lay the green grass of my childhood garden. It looked so lush. The rain in the night had refreshed it.

I saw a dragonfly flitting backwards and forwards, its wings like gossamer. Bees were buzzing from flower to flower – the delicate pinks, the brilliant red poppies and the pure white roses whose smell was just heavenly. How many hours had I spent outside just revelling in nature? The glorious garden of my youth.

My eyes returned to my room and my bed with its old, faded and much loved patchwork duvet. I had searched for ages for a duvet cover to match my cushion before finally finding one on the market stall on holiday. I had spent all my pocket money on it. I had proudly carried it, across the beach and back up the lane to the hotel. Ahh, in my head, I heard the waves breaking gently on the sea shore. It seemed like only yesterday, was it really ten years?

We had been through a lot, my bed and I. Tears I had cried into my pillow when we lost our cat to cancer. Hours of escaping into foreign lands as I read novels set in different times and places. And the joy I felt as I ‘discovered’ the Jesus I had just met, come alive in the pages of the Bible. My bed and I, we had certainly lived.

Between the covers, the face of my large and battered teddy bear peeped out. He had experienced all that I had experienced. Those brown glass eyes had stared at me for as long as I could remember. Would I really leave him behind? Did I need him now?

Behind my door lay my bookshelves, completely overflowing with books. As my passion for books had grown, so had my need for bookshelves. My Dad had taken me with him to choose wood to mount on the wall and then fill with books. “That’ll keep you going for a bit” he had said as the last screw went in the sixth shelf. Now my books spilled over onto the floor.

I sighed deeply as I took in my room one last time. Why was I leaving? All my memories were here. My good times. My bad. My Saviour was here too. I had grown to know Him over the years. I had heard His voice. I had felt His arms around me when my Nan died. I knew His presence was here. In my room. He was as much a part of it as the furniture. He pervaded my room. Why was I leaving? Would I be leaving Him behind as I was my bear, my bed and my chair? Here was where He met me.

I closed the door, sighing, as fear gripped my heart. I walked slowly down the corridor to the front door. “Come on love, you will be late for college” called my Dad from the doorway. “The car’s all packed.”

The world seemed gray outside the front door. All my life, all that was familiar was here. In this house. In my room. I paused in the doorway. I wanted to run back down the hallway. Back to my room. Back to the familiar. Back to my Jesus.

As I stepped over the doorstep into this new, unfamiliar gray world, I ‘felt’ a hand take my hand. I looked up into the familiar face – the brown eyes filled with love and compassion; the gentle mouth that turned up at the corners smiling at me; the wavy brown hair that fell over His shoulders. “Come on love” He said, “Let’s start this new adventure together. I promised never to leave you nor forsake you. I promised to be with you till the end.”

I smiled. My heart filled with warmth and soaring with love. I could do this. I could go to college. I wasn’t alone. I hadn’t left my Jesus in my bedroom. My Jesus was here. With me. Walking beside me. Doing life with me. Always. Forever. I chose Him. And He chose me.

“Coming Dad” I called as I skipped down the driveway to the car.

I wasn’t alone. I wouldn’t ever be alone. The gray day was filled with colour once more.

JULIA WILSON

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