Timing Is Everything

Funny how quiet an epiphany can be. You'd think such an event would announce itself loudly, boldly. Anything that shakes up your entire life should be noticeable.

Sometimes, though, epiphanies sneak up between one breath and the next. One moment your life is one thing, and the next moment you're drifting off on a new course, following a novel, exciting scent floating in the breeze. But it's such a quiet moment that the person sitting across the table from you never notices. And you can't announce it -- "Hey, my life just changed!" -- without making people uncomfortable.

A door is closing, and something I dearly treasure is pretty much leaving my life. And I'm letting it. I'm tired of being bullheaded and resistant. Tired of digging in my heels and fighting for what I feel is best and damn Reality and Fate for thinking otherwise. Tired of all the endless solitary effort.

So I'm not fighting any more. I'm going to loose. I'm giving up. I'm failing.

Not easy words to say. But tonight I like the sound. I've lost that bird in the hand, I'm going to sleep late and miss the worm, and I'm going to skip having an apple tomorrow, too. No more prevention, no more planning, no more fuss. Nothing to fear -- I've already lost.

The shock of change has left me restless. I wish it was tomorrow. I'm ready to start something new.