I went on a journey these past months that wasn't planned. In order to sidestep a crater I fell into a hole that while beautiful, and unending in depth, the climb out was fraught with fallen trees, bats, flesh biting insects and the loss of one of my traveling companions. It wasn't his choice to be flying solo across the country; but without any other income sometimes your choices are already chosen before they are presented to you.
I have reached the surface of the hole and when looking down on it from my wheelchair, I have to stand and see if that hole that encapsulated me for so long was really that minuscule! I stand up, a blessing that is still offered to me and once again look at the hole only this time it is hard to even call it a hole, more like a simple innocuous break in the sandy land that surrounds the area.
Free from its boundaries, and my own I will write to tell more of a different journey. The journey of loss, holding down the fort while my better half travels to places I will never see, the sight of watching my oldest son stretch out his raven like wings to begin his own journey, and last the knowledge that with each day the person who has raised me and then 6 others will slowly forget my existence.
Sometimes a pit is meant to take you away and let you wallow and bemoan your existence. Other times the pit opens up to a hidden treasure of perfectly formed rocks made from million of years of being dripped on, one drop at a time. Each person has to decide what to do when a pit has incapsulated them. Most will step over the small hole and never even know of its existence.
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