Something New

There's a moment in central park, just before the cloudy hues sag from amethyst to gray, when the only thing to do is sit on a rock and acknowledge your humanity. You outline air as it sinks into the creases of a tree and wonder at the way the bark draws hieroglyphics onto pillars topped with green. You watch the children reach out, uprooted. They're soaring from sand box to roller skates to first kiss to laptops and coffee stains. You're happy to be detached from the ground and follow them.

There's a moment in every day when you exhale and realize that more things are good than aren't. The trepidation of "what could be" melts away in light of "what is". I am happy with "what is". I'm happy growing into "what could be". I am happy curling into myself today, knowing that our hands may intertwine tomorrow.

Exhaustion is palpable. My eyelashes cross and stick while I struggle to string words into sentences. This time, it's a beautiful sort of fatigue. It tastes like I have lived just as I wanted to. It's a new feeling - a grounded sort of vulnerability.

I'm challenging my mortality by believing in endless tomorrows.