we're fine.

I'm fairly talented at being able to box certain things up. Putting them on a shelf, tucked far back and out of the way. There are times when I might glance over at the shelf and the box and reach out a swift hand to push the box further back on the shelf, where less is showing, where reminders can't be given. I try to keep this to a minimum. Because even one glance, even one look, and everything I have so neatly boxed away might come spilling out.

I simply have no time for this.

I don't have time to unbox and lament over every moment that hurts. I don't have time to regret and feel like I wasted these beats of my heart. I don't have time. So, I keep them boxed away. Neat. Unseen. Because that is what we do, right?

"How are you?"
"I'm fine," I smile.

Boxed away, the beats tug and tighten. I'm fine. Fine.

The day is warm. Whispers in its air breathe the distant promise of autumn. Light streams through thick leaves, filtered and bearing green warmth down through reaching branches. It dances across the forest floor, heating the ghosts of leaves past, coaxing them to release their woody smell of days gone by. Face turned up, I breathe in. Breathe out. Thoughts float about, lingering and fleeting. If there had been a different choice, if there had been some way to see and know and act differently, would I? Would we?

"How are you?"
"I'm fine," you smile.

Boxed away, the beats tug and tighten. You're fine. Fine.

The horizon stretches out, endless and wide. Sloping down, a slate grey sky gently reaches out, deeply kissing the horizon's upturned mouth. Salt and sand and the cries of gulls fill the air. A song sung from ages past, it fills up and spills over the thoughts swirling about. Waves crash and pull back, beating the box inside. Bare feet sink down in soft sand, deep and comforting. Stillness. Would I change it? If the pieces had been placed out before my feet, seen and understood, looking down years and months and days to come, would I choose different? Would you?

"How are you?"
"I'm fine," we smile.

Boxed away, the beats tighten, tighten, tighten. Demanding to be taken out. To be felt. To be examined with the magnifying glass of experience. To be dealt with. We're fine. Fine.

Here we are. We stand in the forest or on the shore. Thinking, wondering, longing, aching. Would we change it? Would we do it any different? But…

…if we did, what else would we change? Like the ripples on the surface of a glass pool, they carry out and change every, single, moment. If we could, would we change the outcome? If we did, the outcome, our lives, every moment would be completely different.

Would we risk it?

Would it be worth it?

The box is frightening and deep, resembling a black cavern that may swallow us into its belly. Wait. Step into it and shine the light of experience. Let's shine the light that pierces the doubts and say to it, we know better. We cannot be swallowed or overtaken or stopped. We stand on the other side of what's inside of that box. All that's left now is to open it and deal with what we've placed there.

At the end of the day, where we are, this is exactly where we should be.

No regrets. No longings to change. Just now. Here. Let's live this. Let's deal with this. Let's move forward.