We adjust to our realities, to our lives, to our hopes, our dreams, our failures in layers.
When we are young we are horrified by the notion of things we’ll never do again because we are too old.
When we are a part of something for half our lives it is unfathomable that this person won’t be who we die near.
When we lay our heads in a space and sit in a chair and eat a meal at a table for so long we don’t remember another, we can’t imagine that this might not always be where we sleep, sit and sup.
But the ability to accept, live without and move on must be inside because as the old peels off to reveal the raw reality underneath the new skin begins drying in the air so it can nearly immediately stand some new touch without damage and shrinking away.
It all comes in layers, in baby steps without us knowing what’s next and while we learn to let go and walk forward. We don’t think we can, we may give a stumble and cry out. But each morning, each breath, each movement, our natures move us forward.
We heal, we accept, we come around, we recover.
Until we can’t and we don’t anymore.
And we accept that too.