An oasis in the middle of a frozen waste land has me questioning my sanity. I look away and then I look back. Still it’s there, in the middle of this storm, refusing to submit to the unbearable conditions.

My past has scarred me, I just stare. Standing admiring its beauty, appreciating its struggle. Wanting the solace but hesitating to take that step.

So I just stare from my spot in contemplation. After the lonely trek with tears that have long ago frozen, I wonder how welcoming that oasis would be.

Is it just a figment of my imagination? A muddled brain so burnt out and exhausted that it’s making me see this. What happens if I try to get closer?

Will the oasis just disappear? A hallucination mocking me with my wants. What if everything isn’t as it seems and that oasis is more dangerous than this tundra.

Yes, the past has indeed left it’s mark. Yet unconsciously I find I’m making my way towards the green vibrant place with so much hope.

It’s a slow journey, with bouts of hesitation and fear, but the calling of the oasis is so calming and comforting. I decide to take the chance, maybe this is home.