Time, my friend, is a powerful thing. It can heal wounds, pave ways, grow, age, wane, wean, sculpt.
Time can be both friend and foe. But like many things, it depends on what side of that line you choose to stand on.
And everybody chooses a side.
On my side, there is light. There is love. True love. Nothing convoluted or blamed or controlled or molded into something that resembles love. Genuine love. There is laughter and sunlight. There are holes where people should be, but they are my holes that I have chosen. Someday I will fill them with people fit enough to assume the part. Some of them have been filled already.
The point is that we do not choose the first half of our life, but the second half is ours. We can do with it what we may. We can travel if we wish. We can stand still. We can run. We can even fly if we can’t stand the feeling of our feet on the ground.
We can keep our eyes affixed on the future, or we can replay the stuttering past.
This is the part of my life I choose to concern myself with. The one that is mine. The one that I chose. The one where I am in control and I call the shots and I can be at ease. It is not a world of darkness. It is not a world of shame. It is not a world of close-mouthed conversations and wide-eyes shut.
It is my world, and there is joy in it.
I’ll take the ups and downs. I’ll take the tantrums and the potty-training and the bills and the sleepless days and nights. I’ll take all of that to keep the joy.
It’s mine. It’s ours–my family’s. And I’ll never give it up.
I may tell little pieces of my story. I may. Because it is my story–what has become a part of me. And it may help someone. It may help me. But I will always, always keep my heart here. In this minute. On beat with the second hand, pumping blood to the only place that is deserving.