I am standing on the precipice of something new. I can look over the edge but I cannot see past the clouds hovering just below my feet. It is strange because part of me still yearns for the comfort of the known. Regardless of whether it is in my best interest. It is the known I crave. The memories, the love I have felt. The dreams I held in my mind for so long. The dreams I coddled and protected for so long. Can I let go of the dreams, the hopes, the wishes long enough to experience . . .
The Ball-and-Chain
Walking while wrestling with self-doubt, my own ball-and-chain. Longing to fly and slightly remembering the feeling of gullible optimism. Waiting to be above the canopy; to see the expanse of opportunity and possibility. Imagining the wind cutting through my hair without care. Musing over the clouds and their shapes. Creating my life from the marshmallow world that is above my reach. A fantasy. How do I cut through its hold? The ball-and-chain pulling me down feels as if I might . . .
The happy, smiling girl.
There once lived a little girl that loved to laugh and be happy. She wanted to share her laughter and always looked for the good in people. One day she was playing in the park and a little boy came up and took her by the arm roughly. He demanded that she give him her smile. So she smiled for him. He walked away smiling. The next day the little girl was happily going through her day looking at the beautiful clouds when the same boy came up behind her and pushed her to get her attention. . . .