Bittersweet

She stood silent at the edge of the poppy field. The air was bittersweet. As she stared into the night, she realized that she would never return. Until now she had stayed away from the poppies because she knew how badly she wanted them. She stayed away from the poppies because she knew that hidden by their simple beauty, disguised by their sweet aroma was a poison so potent that she could not survive another round. She stayed out of the poppy fields because she knew that if she didn’t she would again become trapped.

The breeze whispers, “These things that are pleasin’ you will hurt you somehow…”

Of course from time to time she edged ever so close to the field of flowers. She has even stopped a few times to pluck a lone poppy from the ground that was growing wild along her path. After all she is by no means perfect and temptation is a tricky foe. Too many times she has stood on the perimeter of the field with one foot planted firmly on the ground and the other dancing among the poppies. They ever entice her. They forever call her name. It seems as if they want her with the same intensity with which she craves them. She closes her eyes and drifts back to a time when she lay on her back in the midst of the poppies. The grass beneath her was soft and the sun warmed her face. The flowers swayed about all around her. Their sweet scent filled the breeze and that same breeze kissed her cheeks and tousled her hair. They romanced her more earnestly than any man had ever attempted. She would close her eyes and all reality outside her poppy field would melt into oblivion. She relaxed, letting the poppies carry her to worlds unknown. Worlds where there was no pain, no worry.

Soon however, she would inevitably awaken…
Her worries and fears and all of her pain always awaited her at the edge of the clearing. Still she knew that the poppies were always there waiting with open arms. They were always there to take her away from the evils of her reality. She could return any time she liked. But each rendezvous in the field made it harder and harder to go home. Why hurt when you don’t have to, when you can immerse yourself in utopia?
As time went on, the same breeze that once brought serenity began to steal her breath. The grass that had cradled her had grown unruly and she was suffocating. Just beyond the edge of the field she could see her life, her family, her son. They were all reaching for her, calling to her. But when she tried to rise to go to them, she realized that she was bound. She lay helpless on the ground trapped by the flowers tangled in a root system so strong and so complex that there was little hope in wriggling free. She stared across the distance at the faces of those who love her the most. They were overtaken with pain and she knew she had caused it to be so. The more she struggled to free herself the more entangled she became. She had been deceived. She had wanted to escape herself so badly that she had given up everything she once knew and loved in exchange for numbness. Her utopia had become her exile.
Finally she just let go. She was tired, she was defeated. She sat back in the midst of the poppies, sure that she would be consumed by them.

But that wasn’t the plan. Destiny had a different idea. Even when she had given up on herself, the people who loved her didn’t. She was rescued from the poppy field and deemed worthy by the Universe to be given a second chance.
Standing now at the edge of the field her salvation seems lifetimes ago. Time has a way of dulling your memory and the poppies dance and sway seductively as if to plead, “…just one more time…”. The breeze whistles through her hair ever so gently, carrying with it memories of oblivion. She stares at the horizon and takes a deep breath. The smell of the poppies fill her lungs and it is sweet indeed. She closes her eyes and throws her head back. The sun warms her cheeks just as it did back then, only differently somehow. Now she can truly feel the warmth of the sun. Now she can really feel the breeze kissing her cheeks. She is no longer numb. She can smell the poppies like never before and she realizes that they are not as sweet as they once were.
She turns her thoughts to baby blue eyes that are a mirror image of her own. He is, after all, an extension of herself. She sees his tiny hands in her minds eye and remembers how badly he needs her hand in his to guide him. She hears his little voice say, “I love you mommy. I’m so glad your finally home.”
She thinks of everyone who put their lives on hold to save hers.
“Not this time…” she whispers into the wind. “…not ever again.” She turns and walks away from the field of poppies. She knows now in this moment that she will never look back.