This morning I was reading something, and it pulled me back into a memory I thought I had tucked away. The memory of buying a house with so much love, designing every corner with my heart, imagining a life within those walls — only to never live there. Circumstances changed, and eventually, I had to let it go. Selling it was not just a transaction; it felt like giving away a part of myself. The ache of that loss still lingers.
By afternoon, though, the heaviness had shifted. I found myself playing one of my old favorite songs and, without thinking, I danced. I even recorded it and sent it to my family. In that moment, I felt alive again, reminded that joy can appear just as suddenly as pain.
When I reflected on my day, I realized something important: this is what life truly is. It’s not just one steady emotion or one clear storyline. It’s a mix — grief and joy, despair and excitement, sometimes all showing up in the same day, sometimes stretching into long, quiet monotony.
Pain teaches me that I cared. Joy reminds me that I survived.And somewhere in between the ache and the laughter, the tear and the smile, is the place where real life happens.
It’s not always about beginnings or endings. Most of life happens in the messy, beautiful middle — the Wednesdays of our days. And that’s where I’m slowly learning to live.