Transitions.
We start small. We always do. We start small and frightened and too unwilling to take the plunge. We start as strangers, as fledglings thrown to the world, and we start by pretending that we know what we’re doing when we don’t. We start by opening our eyes and slowly unfurling ourselves, by reaching out and learning what others have done, and by stepping through the footsteps of those that came before.
We come to the now. We’re no longer small. Or rather, we’re no longer as small as we used to be. We’re bigger now. We earn money, we’re in grad school, we eat out at fancy restaurants using money we didn’t ask for from our parents. We take trips, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. We date people — often through personal conversations, other times through the swipe of a finger to the right. We’re growing up. We’re not big yet. We’re still struggling as fledglings, but while we still do not know it all, we at least know enough.
Transitions.
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New Year’s Eve. 2014.
A year of layovers, gap years [or, rather, a gap (half) year], finally deciding what to do after college, bringing friends to airports as they leave for other countries, starting all over again, growing up (or trying to), shifting weights, getting over people, loving new ones.
2014 was (or is) the year that taught me to live. And not just the kind of living that one feels after a life-changing experience, like a trip abroad or a near-death moment. It includes the poignant, subtle events: a friend leaving, watching the sunrise, driving through the country at 2 in the morning, or that first cup of caffeine after a long, long day.
2014 taught me that I was capable of being far more than what I give myself credit for. From law school and paying for my own trips to learning to surf and swim; from riding a bike and getting personal (and permanent) reminders of who I am and who I wish to be.
2014 looked me in the eye and told me the only person that was truly holding me back was myself. That all I had to do to get from where I was to where I wish I were was to tell myself to move.
Transitions.
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And so before the year ends, while there are so many to thank, I will only really thank two. The Man up above, for making sure the transitions are a little less painful and a little more beautiful; and 2014 — including those who were in it: family, friends, readers, acquaintances, passers-by, and strangers — for helping me to get to where I am right now.
The transitioning isn’t over. I will still stumble, and cry, and make horrible mistakes. I will still have moments of intense self-doubt and there will still be times when I will honestly have no idea if I’m doing anything right at all. However, I will also learn. And flourish. And do far, far greater things.
On this last day of 2014, I only pray I was better than I was 364 days ago. I mean, isn’t that exactly what transitions are all about?
Happy new year, everyone. Have a great one ahead. ❤
Of perpetual finds 