I threw my shoulder into the car door to close it against the wind that whipped the ferry deck.
The end of year dawn was heavy and dark, the sun still shy of rising. I shoved my hands in my pockets and watched my companions shrug into their coats.
I followed them up the narrow staircases until we were tucked within the warmth of the cabin. I rested beside her, 3 coffees on the table as we took seats beside the dark windows lining the walls. I could only see my own pale face looking back at me from the glass.
The last year had taken a toll on all of us. The war had thickened the air and clogged our throats, and words came slower now. The town was smaller now. Hearts were heavy with dented armor and feet were muddy from treading uneven ground through the long night.
It shook our foundation when they called for the blood of the wounded. When they stained their hands and pulled down the sky. The world went blind when we needed help crossing the intersection.
I still remembered the dreams from the beginning of the year. Watching the demons dance outside – thinking I was safe behind barred doors. “But we’re already here…” the whisper behind my shoulder told me. The dreams were right. They were within. Why hadn’t I seen it?
But our roots ran deeper than they knew. The foundation shook but stood. The wounded rose.
The morning turned from black to indigo as we sat together, peaceful in the company of kindred and comrade.
Each moment was a gift.
He walked me to the third story deck and pushed open the heavy door.
I pulled my green coat tighter and ducked my face into my scarf as the mist hit us, signaling winter. We stood in the fog together as the darkness shifted to gray.
We’d lost so much this year. I was so thankful it was coming to an end, but what would next year bring? I stood next to him, mesmerized by the sound of the invisible waves lapping against the ship in the darkness. I turned to him and saw the small smile flash as the horn signaled our coming across the cold waters. I hadn’t seen it much this year.
As long as we made it together, it didn’t matter.
The war could rage on. The demons could dance.
This is what I had. I had this moment. I had this morning to watch the sun rise. I had the One who never chooses blindness. I had them. I had him.
Everyone fights their own wars, and not everyone makes it. But we did. We made it out alive this year. Limping and bruised, but we made it together. That was the miracle of 2017.
Things would get better. We would get better.
We turned and walked back inside. She linked her arm through mine, still damp from the fog. We slowly wound through the cabin, down the staircases, and back to our car.
He looked at me across the hood. “Are you ready?”
The sun rose.