Cherry Blossom


I was a little girl once.

I was an awkward little girl. Everything would confuse me. I would sit on my father’s lap and know I made him sad. I would ask why and he would deny it. I would see my mother cry and ask her why she was sad and she would deny it too.

1indigo6I only knew it was my fault. I knew that I was ignorant, that I said the wrong thing and everything I did was silly. I was stupid, ugly and it was my fault that people wanted to give up on me.

I can’t remember a time without the strain of denied unhappiness. Denied unhappiness is the worst kind. I felt a dread, a deep ocean dread that makes everything hazy and heavy. We could not speak of it or even acknowledge it and when I tried to I made it all worse. I was the cause of all the pain and I wished I could disappear to make it all better for people again.

I grew up slowly and I grew up fast. There was no time for childhood in my childhood. I mocked girls who were loved. I laughed at their weak, foolish delusions and at how spoiled they were. My mother encouraged me in this and my father looked at me sadly and I knew that if I were a better girl that I could have been like those girls; sweet smelling and innocent. They were cherry blossom. I knew they were loved. Those stupid girls, those sun kissed girls, those cherry blossom girls.

I was all grown up by ten. I had learned deceit and denial. I had learned to bitterly fold in on myself and accept my lot in life. I would still dream and when I woke up I would find I had scratched my face or my chest. There would be skin under my nails and blood on my pillow. We all ignored this and waited for me to accept myself and descend without a fight to where I was supposed to be.

1indigo4I accepted myself for years. I accepted that I should be hurt and ignored. I accepted that the cherry blossom girls were to be pitied for their lack of understanding of how cold the world was. I envied them too but I knew that was a stupid, laughable feeling. I was forever out of their pack. I was resin, a dark, sticky, irritating substance sticking to the bark of the tree of life.

I was struck dumb when I met you. Struck dumb by the choices I had made, caught still in the amber of my life.  I knew that my parents had old hurts passed on to them before and that their sadness was not my fault.  I knew they gave me their sadness only to keep me safe, to keep me from hoping for anything more. I ached still. I was in pain when I thought too hard. I had tried to build a life and lost so many times. I lost only the invisible things. I seemed to be doing so well stuck in the respectable choices I had made, I had chosen a respectable path and a good life. I sat still in it with my back ramrod straight.

It hurt to meet you. It hurt to see your eyes. It hurt to hear your breath in my ear and to feel your hand over mine. It wasn’t like being born, birth is soft and new, birth has pliable skin and wide eyes. Instead it was forcing my way from some dark cave, though rubble and thorns. I was dirty and bruised, ravenous for sustenance and grabbing at anything I could get.

There was nothing delicate about it.

1indigo5Except the love, except the whispers and the kisses, they were delicate. They were a hint at the love that waited for me.

I remember leaving you in those first months, as I drove away from our visits I would sob and retch as I took myself home. Blinded by tears and pain I could not understand why I wept. Now it is obvious, it was my rebirth and entering the world is always painful, the light is a shock even when loving arms reach out to hold you tight.

I could have hated you at first for the hope. The hope was like a bruise. Every time I thought I could be loved I hurt more than I could ever have dreamed possible. I had loved before, felt was I thought was love before and each time had been hurt, often by good men but they were the wrong men and I hurt. I did not want to try to live, to try to come alive. You knew this and you stayed still as I told you I wanted you to go, as I told you it was too hard to try to live again, as I tried to push myself back into the hold of my old life.

I came to you knowing everything about myself and my life. Within weeks I knew nothing at all. I could have torn at you. I could have ripped you apart for bringing uncertainty to me. I ran for miles and miles through the woods. Each step was a question and I never ran far enough for the answer. I wore myself out hunting for truth and for what I really am.

The true horror was at night. I would lie awake and dream of you. I would search myself out, arch my back and from hundreds of miles away you would whisper in my ear all those sweet forbidden words that I was never meant to hear. But worse, when I came I would call back to you. I would say that words that were forbidden to girls like me. My eyes would fly open and I would sit up in the dark. I would hate myself for that hope. I would stare at the dark trying to will myself to unsay the words I had set free. I would mock myself for being so stupid, for being deluded.

You did not stop loving me. You still do not stop loving me.

You do not stop loving me when I am angry, awkward, when I test you and when I push you as hard as I ever could push anyone. I lie with half truths. I lied to myself. I shove us both. In truth I find a life of pain easier than I life where I am safe and loved.

You never stop loving me.

1indigo3Now, you pick words from my head like flowers from a field and present them to me. This is a gift you have.  I do not say these words to you. I don’t hint but you find them and you say them out loud. I have no idea how you do this. I have asked you many times and you tell me that you know because you love me.

And then, you let me say the words that a girl like I was has no right to say. I stammered them at first. I clutched tightly to your neck and whispered them in your ear. I remember how it took me hours. Really, it had taken me years.

And now, I speak these words freely. Forbidden words that should be out of my reach, I pluck them eagerly each day. I throw them around me like cherry blossom and sit amongst the petals and laugh.

You recreated me. You show me how I can tell the truth and still be loved. You show me how I can be loved. You love me like I did not dare to dream of being loved.

When I leave you or you leave me, I cry. I think you cry too. I think we both remember a life before we found each other. I think we remember a colder, darker life where we lived with determination and resolve, like tired ill trained soldiers marching in the rain.

We found each other though. We found each other despite us being neatly ensconced in the wrong lives, despite having the approval of society, despite everything.

You have made me a better person. You make me a better person. When I met you I did not think I believed in love. I certainly did not think I was capable of loving or of being loved.

You love me. I love you. We have stronger hearts now.

I don’t have the words for all this. But I keep on trying, don’t I? My writing meanders, I should stop but I don’t want to.

You gave me back my faith, faith I never had in my whole life. I know what the old films are about now. I understand those grandiose statements in airports and train stations. I understand the softly spoken words and music that nudges at your heart.

I love you. You love me.

You made me a little girl again. I am a happy, loved, cherry blossom little girl whose life is an adventure. I look at you and I know what faith is and what it is for.

I love you. You love me.

I will keep writing that in a million ways my whole life long.1indigo7


15 Responses to “Cherry Blossom”

  1. 1 John

    Beautiful story. I love a woman like her. She is gradually learning to accept my love and return it.

  2. April is the cruellest month….beautiful writing. It’s my story too. BB

  3. I love this so much. It is so hard to grow up, in whatever way we manage it, but some childhoods are harder than others. Yours gave you the bones to be a beautiful woman, a thoughtful and wise philosopher, a delightful and funny girl, and finally, a delicate cherry blossom. But can I tell you a secret? I knew you were a cherry blossom all along.

  4. I love this so much. It can be hard to grow up, in whatever way we manage it. But some childhoods are harder than others. Yours gave you the bones to be a beautiful woman, a thoughtful and wise philosopher, a delightful and funny girl, and finally, a delicate cherry blossom. But can I tell you a secret? I knew you were a cherry blossom all along.

  5. 5 Kia

    Indigo- this is the most beautiful thing I’ve read in a long time. I can feel your pain, your healing, and your love screaming from the screen. I can relate to much of what you say, and knowing that you’ve found love and happiness gives me hope.

  6. 6 MrJ

    True love `does never, nowhere stop, as it is for the other as a whole. That is one reason why it can be so healing.

    Reading your story makes me feel happy.

  7. Beautiful

  8. Thank you for sharing your hurt as well as your love. May you blossom ever after,

  9. 9 Lily

    I’m glad that you have blossomed. 🙂

  10. Lovely! You spoke beautifully.

  11. 11 Danielle♡

    I literally started crying as soon as I started reading this post. You are so incredibly beautiful just by what you share with each of us. You practically render yourself naked. It’s all so genuine and raw . I can’t help but to feel connected and empathetic when you give us pieces of yourself through your writing. You deserve happiness and to love and be loved, as we all do. I’m just happy that you’ve found that. I admire your boldness, and can only find inspiration in your words. Sincerely, thank you♡♡♡

  12. 12 DJ

    “Hello, this is Indigo.

    I had to respond to thank you for the lovely comments. Hearing back from people means so much and I hate not being able to reply.

    John, I think she is a lucky woman. If you know her well enough to know she is like this then, like me, she has found the man who understands her.

    Blackbird, I think there are many of us that have this within us and that we can find each other will help us to find ourselves. Knowing that what I wrote connected with someone who has travelled the same path is the most rewarding thing a writer can know. I hope you find your joy.

    Scarlet, you are the one who reminds me every day that it is worth finding myself. You speak with such beauty ad poignancy that it reminds me it is worth finding the words.

    Kia, you deserve hope. We know each other, you and I and I know that you are on your way to find what you need.

    MrJ, I am glad I made you feel happy. You are so consistent in your responses and so kind. I appreciate you very much.

    Leigh, thank you.

    ehlane, I am lucky to be able to share with such readers. I like thinking that this kind of blossom does last- I have faith it will.

    Lily, thank you. It took time but I think anything that matters does.

    minellesbreath, thank you.

    Danielle, it is terrifying sometimes to take the risk of being so open but it is worth it to be heard by people who allow themselves to be open in return. The risk is rewarded, to know that I have touched you and inspired you makes me feel so happy.


  13. 13 amaranth

    That has to be one of the most poignant things I have read – I wish I didn’t know what you mean, but as I do, I’m glad you had the courage to voice it so beautifully.

  14. You sound like me; only I was an abused child. I never figured out why I wasn’t really loved or cared for but have long since decided it was all her(my mother) and not me.
    Peace and Love

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