The Boy Who Loved Wicked

by C.P. Harris

I no longer saw the world as good. It didn’t treat others how it wanted to be treated. It birthed and it took away. It cleansed itself at the expense of my ignorant bliss, leaving behind a permanent misery, no matter how temporary outsiders claimed it would be.

😢

By definition, philosophy was the examination of one’s life, and for the first time, I’d found myself consumed with the examination of someone else’s, overtaken by the mystery.

Being in his arms made me feel insignificant, in a good way. A feather in the hands of a giant.

“She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know that when you isolate yourself away it’s because you want someone to find you. She won’t find you, Sebastian.”

He was a feather in my arms, and I plucked and cast him about until all his feathery barbs floated away and he was left with only the center spine.

In life things got in the way. Roadblocks were a real thing. And it wouldn’t be as simple as running down the street in slo-mo and jumping into his arms as the movies would have me believe. Bash had demons, and he’d have a child. And I had much more growing to do. But how long would I be willing to wait for him? As long as it takes.

With Mom’s permission, I gave Dad’s ashes to the wind, asking her to protect him as she carried him away. I laughed through my tears as two cranes chased Dad through the sky.

I owned my feelings now. They no longer held influence over making me feel weak for even having them. Moments of doubt didn’t equate to a lack of strength. There was power in acknowledging my humanity.

We weren’t stuck in reverse. We weren’t going to waste like I’d claimed when alone with my thoughts. Hope ignited in me then, enough to burn down every barrier that kept us apart. And I thought back to something I’d asked myself once. I’d wondered how much longer I would love him. And my answer then was forever. Then I’d asked myself how long I’d be willing to wait for him, and without hesitation I answered as long as it takes.

Love wasn’t a single act, but a daily practice of the most mundane. The accumulation of the little things. It wasn’t about specific events, or the intensity. It came down to consistency, to working hard and exercising the heart daily even when we looked in the mirror and didn’t see the benefits, because love took time and patience. And things are most rewarding when we sweat to get them.

I would love our life always. And for him and Caleb, I would forever go through the fire and then forget how it felt to be burned.

“Nothing feels better than burning for someone who wouldn’t think twice about burning for you.