transitory

I am certain, both sadly and excitedly, that I am in a transitory period of my life. Having lived in the last 3 years more than any of the twenty-seven before them, I have been moved and educated and inspired and go forward, take what I have experienced, and apply it all to the next phase of my life. The sadness comes with the prospect of letting go, of saying goodbye, and of releasing my hand from the grasp that has kept me on my feet for so long. I couldn't be more grateful for the gifts of bravery, connection, leadership, friendship, and the kindness of strangers, and all of these virtues have both saved my life and helped me to salvage it and mold it into something new. I needed to lean on it all, keep it close, and follow it like a beacon light. I have realized, though- and this is where the sadness comes in- that I have been given the ability to hold myself up on my own, and no longer need to lean into the arms that pulled me back from the edge. In order for me to move forward, I have to leave some of the weight behind. I don't need it like I used to, and I can't risk being anchored in place today, reaching but never touching the substance of my dreams in the ether.