Tag: self-empowerment

The sun was melting into the skyline when Consiglia decided she needed some air.

Though hot and stifling – almost as suffocating out of doors as in – she needed to move, or surely she’d go mad.

Each day had been growing hotter.

And hotter.

One could feel the trapped heat rising from the narrow streets.

Even the patches of shade, which usually offered instant relief, had succumb to the relentless sun.

It was as if the small town where she was born, the tiny, tired home where most of her family had lived and died, and the familiar streets she had rarely left, were smoldering.

Seething.

And each day the temperatures rose, his tolerance for her grew shorter.

And meaner.

Meaner even than she had gotten used to after thirty years at his side.

Under his foot.

In his control.

At least, she convinced herself yet again, he had never hit her.

The absurdity of this thing she repeatedly told herself to be grateful for, made her shake her head and grimace, as she slipped out the door and onto the ancient cobblestone street.

Not even nightfall was offering much relief from the heat and although this was the height of the tourist season, and a time of year when life was usually buzzing joyously around the main piazza, this night was unusually quiet, with only a scattering of people at the piazza’s two cafes.

For this, Consiglia truly was grateful.

She didn’t want to see anyone she knew – she had known her entire life.

Even the thought of a moment’s eye contact with a stranger made her panic (being certain it would cause her to burst into tears out of sheer jealousy that they were from anywhere but there), so she slid along the dark walls of attached homes and darted down the nearest street.

The same excuse pounded against her thoughts again and again: At least he has never hit me.

So mocking and repetitious were the words, she put her hands to her ears to try to block out her own thundering thoughts, finally screaming, “ENOUGH!”, then scanning the road for someone who might have heard. 

No one heard.

But oh, his brutality, she nearly laughed aloud, is generously dished out by other means.

Bitter, cruel words inflicting wounds much deeper than any cut to the flesh.

Each slicing to the soul.

To the self.

Leaving scars that never heal and a human being now halved, and half believing.

The all too familiar neighborhoods of the small town soon gave way to old stone walls and burgeoning farm fields where the meager winds, unfettered by buildings and asphalt, were liberated, and the air felt a little fresher.

Freer.

As she longed to feel.

She picked up her pace as dark thoughts and nasty words became the only inhabitants around her.

Consiglia had no direction in mind, but it didn’t matter in the least, as long as it was further away from him – from the yelling and the belittling and the normalcy it had all become; as chronic as cooking three meals a day, hanging out the laundry, sweeping the stairs… hiding the hurt.

She finally stopped below of wall of Jasmine in full bloom and took a long, deep breath. The overwhelming sweetness of its fragrance made her happily dizzy, so she sat beneath its thick, trailing vines, at the side of the dark, desolate road and wept, like she had never wept before.

Her body convulsed.

Her throat released a moaning so low, loud and guttural that it frightened her. But there would be no stopping it until, like the cries of a dying animal, all its life had been released.

This would take some time.

When, at last, the moans had subsided to quiet whimpers, she lay down with her head in the dirt and dead leaves, closed her swollen, stinging eyes and rested there until her breath returned to normal and her mind turned to tomorrow.

She knew she could stand no more like today… or yesterday, last month, or last year…

Consiglia had had enough.

Slowly, she picked herself up, brushed the petals and dirt from her hair and her clothing and in that moment, felt as if she was brushing away all that had been and all that she had allowed her life to become.

She began walking again, taking the first, slow steps in the direction of town and then stopped… and taking a long, slow breath, turned in the opposite direction.

Having no idea of what she would do, or where she was going, she smiled and picked up her pace knowing only that there would be no going back.