Writing

How did we end up like this? A page turn away from "happily ever after." But now the book is closed and I'm picking up the pieces, spread around the sunrises of my life. But I'm not alone. There are too many shards to find by myself. The reconciliation mission is on. Day by day, piece by piece it's coming back together. I've blown out the candles on another year and the one that is coming looks bright. 365 days of moments to live and chances to soar. I am not okay, but I am cleaning up so well. Polishing the edges that used to be rough and blood pumping through a heart that is softer since its reconstruction. Every tear has been caught, every lung-full of screamed breath has been worth the cost. I am more who I am supposed to be than I was yesterday. And tomorrow is looking good as well. I'm on the road to renewal and even when it hurts, and it's hard and I don't want to go on, the path winds before me. I don't know where it's going and I'm terrified of where I might end up. I've sold my soul and I'm a soul in motion and my soul is overwhelmed but I won't give in. I've got a plan to lose it all, a moment to release my grip and rest in the freedom of dependence. Each day crawls by, full of moments where I'm flying in the clouds. Peppered by seconds of the raw. Heart wounds that I'm desperate to have heal over. Scars are okay, they remind me where I've been, what I've lived through. But open wounds burn when the salt of a sudden memory slips my guard. I want to let my guard down but the memories are too close, too vivid. I don't want to be mad anymore but the anger is easy to process. I'm in a new book now, with more pages in my right hand than in my left. Words are filling pages and chapters are coming together. Please don't be a footnote, a passing thought on a page I won't remember later. Be a heading, be a section, write a line or two. I don't know how many chapters are left, but I'm excited for them. I'm ready for all of them.