I sit in my new favorite place, my window seat. And all is quiet around me, save for the sounds coming from outside. The window is open two inches; enough for me to be part of the world. To watch it from my perch, two stories up, and hidden behind glass. I observe.
And as I do, so many thoughts are passing through this mind. Stories of my own life. Observations that I have made. Words…floating. Eventually, I decide to write them down.
It is the eve of my birthday. Today I am 36 years old. Tomorrow I will be 37.
In recent years, I would be acknowledging this transition–from one to another. I used to write a letter to the year that had just passed, to examine all that had happened and gain closure before moving on; and another letter to the year that was yet to come, introducing myself and sharing with it my intentions for the next 365 days. A conscious transition, I call it.
On this day, I shall write no letter. I shall acknowledge no transition. I feel that I am barely here. And that such days no longer hold meaning for who I have become.
What has happened in the past year has passed and I let go of it. Much of it, I wish not to remember. What lays in front of me is not in my control. The Universe is aware of my heart’s desires, and all that I may do is await their arrival. The work has been done.
So I sit perched in my window seat, birds singing; leaves rustling; adults, children, and dogs passing on the sidewalk below me. Watching the world. And noticing the changes. Noticing the many signs that we have All changed, for the better.
For me, on this day, that is enough. That, indeed, is a job well done.
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