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The door closes behind her. It is finished. The great task of her life complete. 

It was a world into which she had been thrust 30 years prior, as if plucked from her life and cast into that cell for walking down the wrong street, her old self gone in an instant. In shock, at first, she was resilient. Quickly she learned to survive, to make herself skilled in what was needed to do so. Love not only made that possible, but necessary.  Thriving was required of her if the children were going to flourish.

But now.

She’d heard the song for some time, coming from outside those cold walls. For years, she’d known it was there awaiting her release. Honestly, at times it drove her to madness during those years when that heavy door was locked. Mostly, it gave her hope.

Standing here, now, on the other side, the song calls from over the distant ridge. Across these winter white barrens, it beckons.

The part of herself she lost.

It is not so unlike the last time she was thrust from all that she’d known, except that walled existence was so full, there was no time to feel lost, it was all she could do to keep up.

But this.

Vast emptiness is more frightening, in so many ways. It’s tempting to turn back, knock on that door, see if she can make herself fit again –except for the terrible heaviness she’s felt when she’s tried.

The song beckons her come. It sounds like Life. Like resurrection. Yes, the stone rolled away from that tomb!

Why is it so hard to reach the source of that elusive voice?

The stone, of course, tied round her ankles.  

Impossible to fly, she’s walked all this way. No wonder

She’s weary.

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