The Bright Yellow Secret
One bright yellow morning I stumbled as a child from my bed and stepped into the light. Sensing something, I lingered behind my sister when she stepped forth boldly, as if she already knew, as if she had already been introduced to it. But being younger, I had slept longer and the introduction had not yet been made.
I would have liked to stay in my dark room, in the womb of my bed; this morning seemed too bright. But my sister had come to wake me, curiosity had compelled me, and I crept forward into a brighter light than I had ever known. It filled the room and threatened to uncover mysteries, secrets I had never heard.
The morning felt cold and yellow when my mother told me the secret. She told me the secret of how everything ends. In the yellow morning my mother held me close to her breast, wrapped her arms around my back, and gently stroked my hair as she told me the secret.
In that moment I woke from my childhood bliss. I woke from my ignorant dream and felt less a child than before. No longer innocent, I knew one day I would be held accountable for my knowledge of this secret.
The secret should have been the dream. These things should not exist. I longed to sleep again, still dreaming my ignorant dream, but the secret itself will one day call me back to sleep.
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