A Quarter and then Some

Four months. Maybe more than four months.

It took me four months after I made what could be the biggest moment of my life that I began to think about how massive that leap just was. I have been so busy being whisked in the things I thought I needed to do that I forgot to pause and be in the moment.

I have always thought that moving and starting a new life would reignite my urge to render my thoughts into playful words. But only after dozens of weeks, at a moment when I’m weary and tired, poisoned from devouring fast food totally disregarding the mindful effort to remain healthy the past few months, just when my brain is momentarily inert that my thoughts began to flow freely. Quite rum.

I was staring at a glass of tasteless tea when I suddenly had a flashback of my first view outside the window when the airplane was descending. A couple of hours before that moment, I could clearly remember myself onerously pulling my trolleys at the airport, consciously preventing my tears from dwindling down as I kiss my old folks before I boarded my flight. I have a love and hate relationship with airports but this is by far the one I hated the most.

How far have I really gone from that moment? Not that far to be honest.

But it doesn’t really matter how far I’ve journeyed, what matters is how close I was to what I wanted. The road to get to where I dreamed to be was taxing, the obstacles were unfathomable, the detours were painful but as cliché as it may sound, the best route isn’t always a straight path, the curves and long rides allow us to remember and understand why we dream the dream.

Looking back at the time when my seat belt was tightly fastened aboard that calm flight, strangely different from the turbulence I was feeling inside, I remember telling myself to always trust the process. Today, four months after, I continue to trust the process until I finally understand why that process had to be the way.

06/12/18