The soft dark velvet of sleep out of reach, I become ever more conscious with each breath. Conscious of the heart-break our friends are tolerating and trying to make sense of right now. Cancer. Conscious of the terror it strikes in me. Conscious of my uncharacteristically racing brain—I’m sensitive to my environment and am at the moment surrounded by physical chaos and to-do lists.
Breathing it in, and out, letting it flow through me. An hour later, I’m still breathing, letting it flow through me, calm, but fully alert.
It’s 5 AM. The moon is dark. It seems as good a time as any to make some address changes, pick away at the to-do list, have a cup of tea, give thanks for the moment.
Because this moment, whether exceedingly happy, or heart-breaking, or simply (as most are) somewhere tolerably in between, is, after all, all we ever have. This moment, this day, the next step.