I’m sitting here in a hotel room in Anaheim, CA.
And I wonder how I got here.
I mean, I know how I GOT here…a plane and all that stuff…but I can’t quite figure out how I got HERE.
From living in the bubble of our cancer life to sitting in a room 2000 miles from my family on a business trip.
I’m embracing this new writing space (if not actually writing in it quite as much as I’d like).
I’m working my tail to a shiny nub with Aiming Low, seeing the phenomenal talents all working together to make something great out of a simple idea that fell out of my brain one day.
My family is together. My kids are so happy and healthy and life seems to be moving forward at the speed of light.
I love it.
This is my dream. This is the life I watched pass us by in the years we endured so much sickness and disappointment.
There are all these plans…these possibilities…this future.
They’re good things. Positive things. Things I want and desire for myself, for my family, for those I work with.
With each new good thing, part of me leaps in excitement.
And part of me doubts.
It will doubt my ability to do. To accomplish. To achieve. It will question my skill and my ambitions. It will whisper in my ear that I am not capable…that I am less than what I hope to be…than what I need to be to make these things come to fruition.
It will laugh at my missteps. It will point its finger at my faults. It will rub salt in the wounds of my failures.
It’s what makes me hesitate. It’s what causes me to consider all there is to lose before I even try. It feels like a shoe. Waiting to drop. Hovering over all I hold dear.
But it’s a rough lesson when life teaches you how quickly it can all be snatched away. Again and again.
So, I inch forward in this new life…with its fast-as-light changes and unexpected forward thrust…trying not to want it too bad.
Then it doesn’t hurt as much when it’s gone.