Suddenly you find that you have less time for all that nothing. Good distractions. You have novels to write and laces to tie on your pointe shoes. One day you notice that the days don’t do that strange dance where they drag and they fly at the same time, and they carry you behind them. Suddenly your hours are filled with purpose and they end with tangible successes. One day you look up, and every bulb you watered is blooming. Suddenly all the little toes you dipped in water are gliding through the water effortlessly, taking you ever onward towards islands you never thought you would see.
I remember this when I feel too stuck to move. I repeat it to myself when I get bogged down in the minutiae of minutes. There was a day when all I had with me was turmoil. Frayed ends of live wires. There was a day when I didn’t know how I could ever move forward. And now years have passed. And all those little things that rattled around in my head like loose seeds have come into fruition and made new life in the land I cleared. I remember that when I don’t know what the end of this tunnel looks like. I remember it when I need a little light.
Each moment that prods into my sides like dense thicket becomes easier to traverse. Each challenge that weighs upon my shoulders like the fingers of gravity less capable of bringing me to my knees. I delight in them. I welcome any discomfort that may accompany the change they’ve packed with them. I couldn’t be more excited to meet the world on the other side of them. I grow excited to meet the person I will be this time next year. But not so closely that I don’t revel in who I am now. She won’t be around for long.