Dust

The dust settles. The wind blows. And it settles again. I’m beginning to breathe once more – without the heaviness of the world on my heart.

When all hope is lost; when all you can do is wonder and pray: It is best to understand that life is like a bouncing ball – what goes down, must come up. (You know, unless the bounce is dead. In which case, I’ll just come back as a chinchilla and life will be full of (joyous) dust baths.)

Until then, I relish the pain, the awkward and the lessons’ accompany. My hope is never lost, but renewed.  I remain confident in myself; and my choices, though flawed, will take me where I am meant to be.

(Signed, Future Chinchilla.)