Ever So Slowly

Slowly, ever so slowly, I’m beginning to breathe again. I’m beginning to move again. I’m beginning to heal.

I miss her like crazy and I know I always will. Lately I’ve been finding myself moving about life, trying to find a glimmer of normal in my days. Inevitably something stops me in my tracks.

It could be anything. Something she bought, something she might like, and inside joke, or the little smiley on my arm— her smiley, classic LJ, a tiny memento I carry throughout my days, permanently positioned above my right wrist.

Whatever it is, my reaction is the same. Hesitation floods my physical being resulting in a small glitch in movement.

Ordinarily, I’d pick up the phone to call or text her. In this moment, however, as I begin to reach for my pocket, the logic in my mind notifies the emotion of my heart that she will not in fact pick up on the third ring.

I breathe. I smile, often accompanied by a tear. And instead I use that moment to simply remember.

The moment replays in my mind like an old home movie. I see her reaction, or imagine what she might say. She might laugh, or smile, or say, “whaaaat?!”, with her honestly surprised but slightly sarcastic tone. As the memory comes to a close in my mind, my body is reminded that I’m still frozen in time.

Again, I breathe. And slowly, ever so slowly, close the pages like a storybook and place it back on the bookshelf in my mind. I linger in the nostalgia, just for a bit, as I begin to move again. Slowly.

One foot in front of the other, I proceeded to go about my day. And as quickly as it came, the wave of motion begins to pass. It’s not all bad. It’s not all good.

Every moment carries with it an opportunity to choose forward motion, and forward motion is progress, even if it’s ever so slowly.