A Year From Now

​It's been a while since I've sat here, laptop open, fingers clicking away. This moment feels like the right moment to start again. 
After I wrote my last letter to you, I needed a break. The break I needed was longer than I anticipated. My last letter was about my abortion; in real life, this isn't a conversation we've had yet. I'll explain it one day, but right now, as you rest, it's not the time. Not only is it, not the time because you're sleeping, but your ten-year-old mind is processing so much already that you don't need to process this too. 
You ask freely about my miscarriage. You ask if it made me sad and if I want the baby if I wish they were here with us. 
We talk about the gift of Solomon and that if the other baby did come and live with us, we wouldn't know your cheeky little brother. 
It's a funny thing, the way things work out. It's funny how everything you've been through sets you up for where you're meant to be. You don't see it then; hurt is hurt, and pain is pain. When I'm hurting and in the depth of it, I'm not grateful for it. I wasn't grateful that your little brother or sister didn't get to meet you, but now, I am because it meant Solomon. I become grateful when I look back on the journey. Having stepped out of the grief allows for joy and peace to reenter, but that only comes when we allow ourselves space to heal and process properly. 
 
Time is such a gift. I listened to a podcast quite a few months ago now, and the words still play in my head. The gift of time; we all have it, we all lose it. Time favours no one. Each day we are all given the same amount. It doesn't care if you're wealthy and living in a mansion or poor and living in the slums. Time doesn't care what you wear, how you look, how smart you are - it just is. We determine how we use it; on any given day or moment, we are the ultimate deciders of what we do with it. While time doesn't favour us, we can favour it. We can decide how we treasure, abuse, or hold it with value. 

I look back on my time; the years in church, the years hurting post-church, the hours I spent pounding my feet on the pavement or stretching my arms through the water. The time I've spent studying, drinking, dancing with you, the time I've spent working, surviving, thriving. Not all of it has been well used; much was wasted as I've moved my thumb over a screen without considering what I may be missing out on. 
I spent so much time hiding myself and who I am to impress others to gain their approval that now I can live in the freedom of my quirks. 

I think the more time I have on this earth, the more I want to value it, to treasure it and to hold it in high esteem. 
A year ago, I thought I would know where I would be today. I had a plan, a good plan, a plan I liked and wanted to stick to. But the plan changed because so did my concept of the way I was living my life. 
Four years ago, I had a plan, but the plan changed. 
Ten years ago, I had a plan, but the plan changed. 
Time is ever-changing, and so are we. 

I was talking to a friend on the phone the other day, and she said, "There is no such thing as wrong choices; there are just choices. If the choice you made doesn't work, choose again and keep making new choices."

I guess while this letter may be short and seemingly going nowhere, what I want you to learn, Alexis, is a year from now, you don't know where you'll be, what life will look like and who will be around you. 
I can say, in all certainty, some of the people in my life - but new people will come along, and old people will leave. 
I can say the plan I have, but I'll have to wait and see.
I can also say - with full confidence - that the struggles I'm going through now, I won't be in a year's time. And I find great hope in that. It means, for so many people, the hurt they are in the midst of now, the pain, the fear and the heartache, in a year they won't be there. Maybe there will still be pain, but there will be space from it. Maybe there will still be triggers, but maybe they won't be as apparent. Sure, it means there will be new hurt because that's life, but in saying that -, we will be stronger and better equipped to deal with it. 

What I want to tell you is that a year from now, there will be new adventures, new hope, new dreams and new goals. There will be new things to look forward to and maybe even the ability to look back on this time and smile because we didn't drown in it; we conquered it. 

It's a gift, this thing called time. And as we sleep tonight, it's reoffered to us tomorrow. And one day, and there will be a day when it will no longer be offered to us - so while we have it, we need to appreciate it in all of its fullness.