Page 68 of A Simple Truth

I sat up on my knees, watching the General steadying the board once again. He took another leap, the glass board slicing through the sand effortlessly. I watched him pass me as he glided down the hill, picking up speed. This time, he was a lot steadier and perhaps a bit less cocky, though I doubted that was even a possibility for him. I grabbed my board, going after him.

The sand slid under the glass, taking me briskly down the hill. My thighs burned from tension, but the sheer bliss twirled within me as the desert winds caressed my skin. I quickly caughtup with the General and then I passed him, my soul beaming, as he silently swore behind me. My body tensed as the board wobbled under my feet and I once again extended my arms for balance. I didn’t dare look back to see how far behind he was; my eyes glued to my path as I raced down the red, sandy mountain.

It felt good. So carefree and light, that I could swear I might fly. I heard a loud thump behind me, my eyes darting to his large figure tumbling down again. My soul filling up with pure joy as I saw him roll down the hill.

Joy.

I feltjoy.The realization of that hit me so hard, I immediately lost my balance, plummeting straight into the unruly sand.

I felt pure joy.Something I hadn’t felt in years. Something that I hadn’t felt since the day I lost the only people I had ever loved.

It’s been years.

A part of me had accepted the fact that, perhaps, I was so broken that I could no longer experience that feeling. That I was damaged beyond repair, left only with the emptiness within me for the remainder of my days. Years of accepting a joyless life, surviving on the bleak moments of solemn quietness and solace on good days.

But here, right now, out of nowhere, I felt joy. It scorched me like a wildfire, like lightning, illuminating up the dust-covered passages within me. I couldn’t mistake it for anything else. It was as if life itself woke up within me and burned brighter than any fire ever could.

I was alive. Not just living.Alive.

My eyes pricked with tears.

I felt joy.

Perhaps it was a normal emotion for others. But not for me.

Because when you get lost in darkness for so long, you forget that you could ever see light before.

“She crosses the finish line, and she wins!” the General’s voice roared behind me as he sent large sparks to the sky, creating fireworks, but I ignored them.

Joy.

Tiny tears trickled down my face.

This is stupid,I thought to myself, but I couldn’t stop tearing up. I turned from my stomach to my back, wild-eyed, staring at the spark-illuminated sky.

“You okay?” the General’s quiet voice settled near as he laid in the sand beside me. I nodded, unsure of what else to say. How could I to explain to him what was happening within me. He noticed the wet streaks on my cheeks, and his face immediately laced with worry.

“Want to tell me why you’re crying?” he asked as his eyes scanned my body for injuries. Yet the tears were not from the invisible injuries; they were from the realization that for once, those wounds were healed.

“I’m not crying,” I sniffled, wiping my runny nose with my rolled-up sleeve.

“Am I supposed to believe that terrible lie?” he replied softly as he ran his thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear, his touch too damn caring. “Is this because you suck at dune surfing? Because if so, I must say—”

“Do you ever just get overwhelmed by your feelings?” I interrupted him. “Something that you thought you could never ever feel, and yet, here you are, covered in sand and dust on a random night amidst an endless desert, feeling it all?” I finally dared to say, aware that my words didn’t make much sense.

He let out a lighthearted chuckle.

“Oh, more than you’ll ever realize.”

His answer was so surprising to me, that I turned to face him, but he turned away, his eyes buried deep within the innumerable constellations above us. I felt a soft touch; his hand finding mine. My stomach somersaulted at the sudden intimacy of the touch, but my body welcomed it, had perhaps even craved it, since that night in the rain.

“To the overwhelming feelings,” he said, as he motioned with his other hand, sending large sparks far into the skies, mimicking shooting stars.

“And to the ability to feel them,” I quietly added, sending my copper sparks to join his.

41

GIDEON

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