Josephine

Josephine

She stood on the pier, her white dress flowing around her in the night breeze. I had just finished a long day at work and her figure caught the corner of my eye. The dress was the same color as the moon and reflected the pale light of the evening. Her blonde hair was loose and seemed unkempt in the breeze as she faced the dark abyss of the harbor.

I couldn't stop my eyes from drifting to her perch. As I sat in the seaside cafe directly across from her, I inquired to my waitress about her.

"She's a sad case, that one," she replied. "Look closely and you can count her bruises. I only pray that she gets separated from that man." I didn't see the abuse in her stance, only tranquility. I wished I could feel that way about my own hectic life.

One of the cafe's patrons noticed my interest in the white robed woman, and sat next to my table.

"She used to be beautiful," he said softly, breaking into my thoughts. I looked up at him, hoping he would continue but not daring to speak. "So full of life. Her name's Josephine. Her passion keeps her from leaving him."

"But if she feels dead inside, why does she stay?"

"Why does anyone stay with something that makes them feel trapped? If we all lived to be free then can you imagine how different your life would be?"

His words struck something inside me. How often I lived day to day, breath to breath, under invisible chains. I smiled up at his kind, wrinkled face, and saw years of being held prisoner to life. I didn't know if I had the strength to find my freedom.

I glanced back out the window to see the moon's light over an empty pier. A white garment hung over the rail. Maybe she had the strength to find her freedom after all. Maybe I could, too.