The Bottle Room

He opened the mysterious wooden door and led me into the room. The room appeared to be endless. From the top of the room down to the bottom were bottles, shelves and shelves of bottles. There were large bottles, small ones, of every shade and hue of color. There were thin bottles, thick bottles, and some that were bazaar shapes and odd sizes. At the top perimeter of the room were windows that let glorious light shine through, illuminating the bottles and shining through the bottle glass. It seemed as if the heavenly rays of light were singing over the bottles. The room was strange and intriguing. It was beautiful and bewildering. The presence of the room was still, but undoubtedly alive.

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Tears flowed down Justus's cheeks, staining his skin. It felt like the tears would never cease or ever dry. His beautiful heart had been shattered into thousands of pieces of glass and then the shards of glass had been raked over his heart crevices again and again. Stop the pain! Justus would have rather been diagnosed with cancer or have had his leg blown off by a bomb in war, rather than have been told by his wife that she had been having an affair for a year and a half. He felt numb and sad, stuck in shock. His pillow comforted him by absorbing his countless tears. "God, how could I have been so stupid? How could this have happened for so long? How could I ever trust her again? Why God, oh why?" he sobbed and cried in his dark room. Questions and triggers fired off and the emotions swirled without abating. It was going to take a long time to heal from this, maybe even a lifetime.

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Melody sang and rocked her baby back and forth on the hospital bed. The poor frail infant had only experienced a few short breaths before she died in her mother's loving arms. Sparse tears gently and gracefully slipped down Melody's rosy, exhausted face. Some of the tears fall on the baby's body, almost like a first baby bath in a way. It had been nine months full of anticipation and wonderful excitement. The baby nursery was ready and full of the cutest of outfits. Dainty decorations, pink walls, cute bows, and an adorable lacy bed set; everything was ready and welcoming for a lovely little baby girl who was never going to come home. Nearly a whole day of labor and now this... Melody's soul ached and sang a mournful lullaby. "God, how could this happen? I did all the right things for this pregnancy to be the best that it could be. You knew how much I wanted a baby girl! I want to pretend none of this ever happened." It was going to take a long time to heal from this, maybe even a lifetime.

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Mr. Gilbert sat still as a stone on a park bench. Lonely and reminiscing, he looked up at the gray, overcast sky. He felt his throat tightening as a single tear feebly fell down his wrinkled visage. Life felt so stale and flavorless without Melba, his deceased wife. They had enjoyed sixty-one years of friendship and sweet marriage. Life as a widower felt empty and aimless. Was there any motivation to trudge on through life? The birds looked down from a nearby tree with sympathy for Mr. Gilbert. He looked up at the creatures in the branches and asked them, "Why am I still here? Aren't I old enough, can't I just go to sleep and not wake up tomorrow?" Another lonely tear fell and hit the edge of his sleeve on his jacket. Grief in the latter part of one's life tasted bitter and useless. It was going to take a long time to heal from this, maybe even a lifetime.

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The tears they sowed in this world, they reaped in bottles in another world.