Without My Chaos

I was stuck in my dark cabin for years as it rained heavily outside.
Sometimes the storm would knock at my door violently, as if to see if I would open it.
Sometimes the tree in my garden flew away or fell…… who knew what became of them…… as I stayed inside, trying to keep busy. I would knit, I would sketch, but every task was stopped by a violent howl from outside.

My sketches and my knitting lay around unfinished…… unkempt and unfathomable. My cat sat in silence and boredom. I looked for logs to start a fire, to keep my body warm, but they were all wet. Occasionally, I made tea and sipped it slowly, pondering the purpose of chaos. The answers never came.

Sometimes someone would knock at my door. I dared not open. Sometimes I did…… only to find an unwelcoming face, a strange stranger, a charlatan. There were no answers…… only a seven-year haze of darkness and waiting.

Then one day, the howling stopped.
Sunlight peeked through the broken window glass and the shattered ceiling. As I looked around, I realized… my sketches were complete. My knitting is done. I had written poems. I no longer needed the wood logs.

I could hear birds singing outside.
I looked around one last time at my little dark cabin and understood:
without my chaos, I could not have seen the light peeking through the shattered window.
Without my chaos, there would be no poems.
Without my chaos, I would never have seen the tired, dust-streaked face of my cat glowing in sunlight.

I took a sigh of relief… and stepped outside.