Day 113

How many doorways have you walked through in your life?
Don't bother answering. I know you've lost count. That is, if you bothered to keep count.
Which ... sorry if you tried to, but that number never really mattered.
It never does.
Even if you hovered there, between two rooms. Or a hallway and a room. Waiting. Worried. Hopeful. Whatever.
That archway in the wall that stood as an imaginary barrier between where you once found yourself and where you were going mattered very little.
You were only ever anticipating what was to come, or regretting what was behind.
And now another doorway appears.
And you are between two rooms.
So if you must hover now, be brief.
If you must take a moment to grieve or groan, do it. Take that moment.
But do not, for a moment, mistake a hallway for a home.
These are transitions. And anyone who's had to sit through a poorly staged musical will tell you, the meat is in plot, not the scene change.
Your life, for good or for ill, lies in the room before you.
And you putting off life any longer than you need to, does you no favors.
So take a breath and then another. Then turn the knob and walk through the door.
Who knows what life you may start living.