A new street
There are moments when we know we’ve turned a corner.
When we know that what we once believed is no longer true for us.
The way we were living has become too uncomfortable, too limiting, too old. And our heart and gut need to move to a different way of being, of beating, of digesting our lives.
I moved recently and it has been one of the hardest and most freeing experiences I’ve lived so far. I have felt exhilarated, frightened, powerful, anxious and sad all in the same day.
I can sit on my loveseat and write or read or call someone or watch Netflix or cry or laugh or listen to music without anyone walking in. (Except my dog cuddling up to me or my cat looking for a neck rub.)
At one point I believed that if I lived alone I would lose myself. But instead I think I’m actually finding myself.
And deep down inside I must’ve known it would happen. That the woman I am would blossom in her own space. The fearful child in me maybe didn’t believe it, but the woman knew. So here I am.
The church bells ring every hour from eight a.m. to eight p.m., and they’re like zen bells reminding me to be thankful every day I’m here.
And I don’t know how long I’ll live here on my own, but I do know my life is no longer the same. It has already turned the corner and now I’m walking down a new and beautiful street.