Sometimes change grabs us by surprise. We find ourselves propelled into newness by a sudden and unanticipated event.
We embrace it simply because we have no other choice.
However, more often than not, change is gradual. It frequently goes unnoticed until confronted by a memory. Even mirrors can be deceiving. I believe I’ve been looking at the same reflection every day for the past 20 years. But an old photograph of a, now barely recognizable, face tells a different story.
These measured changes are harder to accept. At least for me.
Then there are those instances when you sense change on the horizon. Although you detect its imminence, you have no ability to control, let alone predict, its timing.
These gaping transitions are the most unnerving.
They leave you stranded amid yesterday and tomorrow – anxiously waiting and torn between holding on or stepping forward.
Any excitement of beginning anew is tempered by the feeling of the past slipping away.
This is the place in-between black and white and the red, green and blues. It is a hazy realm where colors bleed.
When I’m stuck in the “in-between” and the weariness of waiting has taken its toll, instead of looking beyond the borders, I try to find the solace within them.
And when I do, I am reminded of how much beauty there is in the pink, yellow and purples.
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