Pasos

There are times when my footsteps fall heavily. There were dark times when I struggled to walk from my bed to the bathroom, felt like lead was flowing through my veins, angry heavy resentful painful numb hideous lead.

And there are times when I skip down life’s paths and stretch my arms out to embrace the sunshine on my upturned face.

And there are times like now when my steps are in between FUCK! and Yay! Syncopated rhythm of pain and hope, fear and confidence, loss and adventure. Ow! Ow! Ow! Blessed blessed. Ow fuck! Don’t wanna! Yay! What next!?!

Within the space of minutes I shift. And even that is okay. I’m still moving and there’s no stopping me now. I am looking at the world through new eyes. I am strong in new ways. I am capable and defiant in new ways. It’s my time.

I love this feeling of anticipation, this knowledge that amazing things and people and opportunities and love are coming into my life.

Mis pasos firmes marchan adelante.

I love the feeling of sand between my toes.

I love the feeling of hot pavement under my thin sandals.

I love the soaring grounded feeling of delicious high heels.

I love the way my steps trace dreams on the ground as I dance.

I love the way my body moves.

I love the certainty that my steps are taking me on great adventures.

As is often the case, a poem/song came to mind:

Caminante, son tus huellas

el camino, y nada más;

caminante, no hay camino,

se hace camino al andar.

Al andar se hace camino,

y al volver la vista atrás

se ve la senda que nunca

se ha de volver a pisar.

Caminante, no hay camino,

sino estelas en la mar.

~Antonio Machado

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