In An Elevator

It was in early winter when I found myself in an elevator. This elevator was the only physical structure for miles, and in that instance, it served as my friend, my confidant, my most dearest of ears. I pleaded, in this cold night, alone and in desperation. Such strange circumstances I thought. Here I am in this metal box, pleading my case, in silence, yet such was the emotion coming out of that silence, that its walls vibrated. At times, the floor shook. My watch was no longer ticking. Time had stopped. Yet, it was one of the longest nights of my life.

It was all of a blur after all. I recall walking down a long hall; cries in the distance, coming out of many caves. The hall was dimly lit, and a haze hung that made it almost impossible to see clearly. Before I walked into that metal box I felt I had taken the longest walk in my life. I left her there alone, scared, while they took her, and moved her to another floor... and I walked...into that metal box.

The metal doors closed, and there I was, and I asked in silence for help, for him, for her. For their sakes. I didn't care at that point about myself. Every shred of who I am, every shred of myself was peeled away, and left on that elevator floor, naked; humbled. I begged for help, I demanded for him to be okay, crying out towards the metal roof. With every breath I took I became more ill, wasting away as my strength became his. In the ensuing three weeks I became deathly ill, bedridden, barely able to breath. In that metal box I left it all. Never had I surrendered as I did then.

As the doors opened, I ran towards them, knowing in my heart, I had given all I could, in that cold, unyielding metal box. It was the moment I became a father, thanks to a little divine intervention and the solitude of an elevator, in early winter.