His Arms
His arms are like an open door, beckoning me closer to seek the mysteries of the other side. My curiosity is burning, and he knows it but I dare not step any closer, for once the gates have closed I know that there's no going back. What lies beyond the door I do not know. Is it the warm embrace of a beloved friend and angel or the vice grip of a murderer? Either way there is no escape, so it's best to be sure of one's fate before taking the proverbial leap of faith. Curiosity killed the cat, you know, though Erik does seem to be rather fond of cats so perhaps I've naught to fear…then again, Ayesha is a special case. I see her glittering blue eyes, mere slits of light against the chocolate brown fur of her face, glaring at me from the armchair in the corner, daring me to take the plunge.
I recall a story from childhood of a girl in a room with many doors. Some were tall and others small, each leading to a different world—each with its own treasures, each with its own consequences. I am that girl now, confused and overwhelmed by the possibilities and choices. But only I can choose the door to my future and whatever choice I make, it will undoubtedly decide my fate forever.
There is a door now to my right—a magnificent door carved of the finest mahogany, its surface richly decorated in designs, inlaid with jewels and engraved with gold. It is a beautiful door, a familiar door that I have seen before in my childhood, in my dreams. But it is not nearly so alluring as the mysterious door to my left.
It is a rather plain door. The paint is peeling, the wood is scratched. And I'm fairly certain I saw a few termites worming their way in and out of the woodwork. It's barely on its hinges now, just barely hanging on to the rusted old bolts that keep it upright. In fact, it could collapse at any moment. And yet perhaps a bit of love and care is all that this door needs—a bit of sanding, a fresh coat of paint, perhaps some new hinges—yes! I can see it looking quite nicely now. A bit homely, perhaps—a bit quaint—but lovely nonetheless.
I have made my choice.
Carefully, cautiously I take a step forward and—with a bit more confidence than I'm actually feeling—open the door to the left…and, surprisingly, I find that the room beyond is warm and inviting.
Ayesha lazily lifts her whiskers in what can only be described as a smile and rolls onto her back, looking at me with her upside-down grin as if to say, "I told you so." And for once, I agree with her. I know, without a doubt, that I have made the right decision.
I love his arms because they hold me close, and I know they'll never let me go.