Transitions are a part of life. They happen slowly almost unnoticed at times and yet the large changes we face are anything but slow and subtle. In August of 2010 I moved from my home of 22 years to a place I had dreamed of for the past year and a half.
I hated it. I cried because I was alone for the first few months. I am sure I am not a rare case nor I did I believe I was. I survived it with the help of my parents and my loving fathers kindness. I got through it and came out a different and stronger young woman. I experienced so many firsts and many events that I had only dreamt of.
Life is cyclic I think. We face challenges, grow, and come out better in an unending pattern. I am back to this place I loathed being and hoped I would never return to again. I am back to where I started in August of 2010. Its a different month and year but the situation proves to be all too familiar. I know its time for me to grow. I need to stretch and learn a bit more humility but I wish it didn't come with so much pain.
So as I have said so many times:
Here I stand at the open door with my loves, dreams, and hopes cupped in the palm of my hand. I inhale and release my grip as they are released into the world. With the freedom of my hands I grip the edge of the door as I stare out into the darkness. This time I don't know which direction to go or where to begin. The air is filled with a still cool blackness. Trusting in my father once again I move. Where? I do not know. All I know is, as before, my path will be lit once I take my first step. So I inhale until I feel my lungs are about to burst and lift my right foot and move it out into the darkness... .
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