Sitting on the fence

Not quite wanting to stay put, but to afraid to leave.

I told myself all my life that last Monday would change everything, and yet everything stays perfectly in it's place. Birds still sing the same songs, the sidewalk still looks a bit too gray, and the autumn breeze still feels like warm arms that were never there.

By now I was supposed to know how to cook Thanksgiving dinner. I was going to know exactly what I wanted to do when I grew up. I would be an expert at something. I would have gotten over my wallflower tendencies and my fear of teh dark. All promises of which I have no intention of following through.

And yet, even though that side of the fence is the same as it's ever been, there's also the other side; the beautiful and frightening future just beyond the next sunset which is so much closer today than it ever has been. The chance to do more, to go farther than I ever dreamed possible.

But to go there, I have to leave my sturdy sidewalk behind. I have to get off the fence I have become so comfortable on. The snow beyond is so new, so untouched, and yet so filled with uncertainty. On the other hand, isn't that the fun of hopping the fence?

"Ever feel like a conversation would be 100% better on a footbridge?"

Maybe all I need is a hot coffee.