The final chapter

Today the story draws to a close: the final chapter. I've spent almost ten years walking with Evelyn. Given the significance of this, I'd like to take a moment to thank my faithful companions for accompanying me on this journey and helping to take my mind to the place where Evelyn resides: Zbigniew Preisner, Michael W. Smith and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales. I thank also movies such as The Lord of the Rings, Life of Pi and We Bought a Zoo who have alighted my eyes with marvelous sights of soaring mountain ranges, picturesque sunsets, sun-streaked trees and far away, magical places. I thank also those who kept me reading as a kid: John Marsden, Judy Blume, J.K. Rowling, Roald Dahl and S. E. Hinton who taught me about adventure and friendship.

By this Peter Pan meets Playing Beatie Bow story, I hope to win back the hearts of many young women who find themselves lost. I hope that one day, at least one woman will see Seasons on the shelf of a bookstore and journey with Evelyn to find that they are loved, worthy and worth waiting for.

This journey is far from over with the (so I've been told) painful editing process ahead, but all the same, writing to the end of a story is quite the achievement. Hoorah to me!

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under Heaven.

Today is winter and the perfect time to finish a book!

Rest in peace

Goodbye. Who would have thought that one innocent word could be so hard to utter? Evelyn knows what to say; she can see the word formed in her mind, yet when she opens her mouth it refuses to tumble out. By speaking such a word it would become a reality; there would be no denying it anymore. Yet it resembles a truth that she refuses to believe so her body denies it pass.

Goodbye. Sayonara. Ciao. Au revoir. Adiós. Hooroo.

Spring passes on the back of a breeze

Spring is an interesting time that would not be interesting at all if it weren't that it followed winter. The fact that the sun glows warm, butterflies fly in abundance, blossom scents fill the air, and the earth is covered with greenery is completely ordinary. But because it follows winter the details of this season are all the more sweeter: the people of the earth come to life once more.

Yet it passes on the back of a breeze and before you know it the sun is blearing high in the sky and the storms are rolling in: you are met with summer. Evelyn tries, somewhat unsuccessfully to savour every moment of spring.

The birds sung sweetly in tune with the morning

And the morning spoke of new beginnings

And everything in its beginning began to look new again.

The zephyr it knew which way to blow

And blow it did at the earth

And the earth smiled agreeably at its new coat.

The flowers of the field swayed in time with the bushes

And the bushes reached up to the trees

And the trees stood tall and proud.

The season sung of glorious days

And the days they stretched in light yet shrunk in time

And the time it passed before my eyes.

When a face escapes you

Oh to forget the face of a loved one! What a truly tragic realisation. Certainly many memories will exist for a lifetime, their laughter, their mannerisms - but their smile, their eyes - it is that which is longed to be held onto. To lose such a thing as a face is deadening, hopeless, soul-crushing. Particularly if that someone is truly a loved one.

Like a cloud of smoke in your minds eye, they appear distant- hazy even. Perhaps an outline is visible and a vague sense of hair colour. But like a word on the tip of your tongue, their face escapes you. It is a deeply regretful realisation for Evelyn to stumble upon.

Where are you, my love?

Where indeed!

I left you long ago

And now your face escapes me.

I saw you picking cherries

On a warm summer's day

But ran from your farm

and cried all the way.

I should have stopped to say good-bye

I should have blown a kiss

But in my haste I couldn't bare

The touch of your caress.

That was long ago

And now my tears are dry.

But my heart it still laments

Oh why? Oh why? Oh why?

Why ever did I run

From your farm long ago?

Though I know the true reason

I still question myself so.

Oh! to see you one last time

Would be a gift for me.

For I loved you up close

But now only distantly.

Those merry brown eyes

and strong jaw-line.

I see all your features but can never

See the full design.

Now I pace the fields of your farm

Hoping upon hope.

But never do I see you

Picking cherries on that slope.

Dawn

There's something hopeful about dawn. Though it is the same sun, it appears new. Though you are in the same place, it feels different. Like a promise. A promise of something better.

Evelyn has an inkling. As the sun grows with brightness, so too does this inkling grow. It is an inkling of hope. And as the light of the dawn is cast upon every crack and crevice, the hope of this new day spreads throughout her body, lifting her feet forward.

There was a time

When willows weeped

But all was contained in a season,

A season of lamentation and sadness.

But now the dawn has come

Bringing warmth and honey,

A new season

Of hope and gladness.

Dark night of the soul

Fury. Absolute fury has engulfed Evelyn. I say engulfed as it is though she has been subject to a beast consuming her. She looks and feels like Evelyn, but her eyes run red with blood. She is on the prowl. The storm of her pain alight inside fuels her want for revenge. Her need for blame. Her desire to attack.

Like a fly on the wall, she witnesses herself. She sees this monster overtaking her and cowers at the sight. She sees it as it really is - not of herself, but subject to the weight of her cross.

Terrifying shadows cast over the ground

'Til the moon hides behind heavy cloud.

Darkness ensues in the cold of the night

And reduces any possibility of sight.

This night is too long.

Oh I cannot bear

The weight of this pain, 

The toll of the wear.

Faster and faster the snow paces the skies

The blur kills all hope of sunrise.

I cringe and cry and crack inside

The very heart of me has died.

Not an inch not an ounce,

There is nothing left.

Not anything to denounce

For all morsels have been theft.

So farewell I am 'bout to bade

But first ask for Your assisting aid.

Aha! This is the key!

For suddenly You come to rescue me...

Awakening

To fall to sleep, not for the rest, but for the awakening on the other side. For new eyes to see things clearly, waking up to the truth you were too tired to see. Circumstances brought about the slumber but then too called you to your awakening. To your awakening. Awakening. Wake up. Sleep no longer.

Wake up sleeper, rise from the dead (Ephesians 5:14).

Evelyn has awoken. Now what will she do?