April 2021

I’m standing with my sister in the who-the-hell-knows-part of the labyrinth. “Left or right”, she says. I glance over at her, a playful look in her exhausted grin and sunken eyes. I huff out a chuckle and weigh the options. I think of something, saying to my sister, “Why don’t we each go a direction, and when one of us gets to a curve that isn’t leading to a dead-end, just yell.”

“Just don’t decide to ditch me.”

“I just might have to, now that you say it,” I shoot back with a glare. “I was just playin!” I bite back another smart-ass comment and extend a finger to the right, “Just go that way, and let me know if the first corner isn’t dead-end.” We say, “goodbye for now”, and each head off. I go left, she goes right. I take a few steps forward. Something gets set off, the ground rumbles. I look to my sister, who was giddily skipping in her direction, and I see pure fear in her eyes as cold and solid concrete wall begins to rise from where we had just been standing moments before. I yell for her, and I notice her attempt to run to me, but she doesn’t make it. I yell louder, as if my soundwaves will carry her over to me. I can hear her call up to me, and I can make out what she says. I somehow compose myself. I hear her call out: “Now that we have this beauty to consider, we just need to keep going inwards, and eventually we’ll meet in the middle, right? We just gotta talk.”

“Okay, let’s try that. I’m walking.”

From afar this labyrinth looks easy to escape; a finger on the page can escort a lost soul out into liberation. From within, strong stone walls folded into corners and dead ends leads into a daunting task. Here I stand, within these stone walls. I begin to walk forward. I make some turns. Another turn there. I’m making turns, imagining myself going towards the middle. Hours pass, still nothing. Not even footprints. I begin to panic. This is a desperation to reconnect with my sister. She vocalizes my internal despair, her calls for me echo around me like a plagiary of mockingbirds that are nesting in the orchard I am lost in. I scream back into the air, every crack in my voice acting as a pin to my location. I crumble to the ground as the screams echo back around me. In and out my ears like a never-ending tortuous railroad of my mind. I crumble into the ground below me. I feel gravel shards dig into my exposed knees. The pain reminds me of the reality. From what I can see of the pink sky above me, the sun is setting. I look at the stone wall in front of me wondering which way to go. I rise from the ground, dust the sharp pebbles from my knees—where I am once again reminded of the fact that I am very much alive, from the looks of the bloody little puncture wounds left behind. I think of my sister, my most important blood outside my body. I look at the sky again, the pink and orange blending into lilac. Back to this stone wall. Slowly walk forward, stop. Look both directions and weigh the options. I don’t remember if I’ve been here before. I decide to leave a mark here, so I know in case I wind up here again somehow. I have nothing to leave a mark with. I need my clothes for the incoming cold night. My bra could work—but freezing nips are no joke. I’m thinking of everything. Somehow my eyes advert back to the wall in front of me—light. Before all hope was lost, I look over, and standing is my sister. Shivering already from the early evening chill in her baggy sweatpants and our dad’s big sweatshirt. Her hair is dusty, and her eyes are glossy and red. Without words, we both grasp onto each other, I hold onto the sweatshirt around her arms and her arms go around my neck to hold me to her chest. We step back from our embrace and hold each other’s elbows. She glances down at my knee, back into my eyes, and then back at my knee. “You’re bleeding.”

“I don’t care about that right now, come here.” We hold each other. 

“Left, or right?”