Between What Was And What's Becoming

I am living in the hallway of my life,
not the room I left,
not yet the one with the windows open.
The light here is strange
soft, forgiving, undecided
like dusk learning how to breathe.

Some days I carry silence like a passport,
other days I meet new voices
and feel the weight lift, just a little.
Friends appear like benches along the trail
not meant forever,but meant now,
and somehow that’s enough.

I am learning that becoming
doesn’t require urgency.
That forward motion can be gentle.
That laughter with a stranger
can stitch something quiet back together.

I no longer rush to name the destination.
I trust the road again
the way it curves instead of commands,
the way it introduces me
to people walking at my same unhurried pace.

And somewhere ahead
not summoned, not chased
is a presence I haven’t met yet.
Not a rescuer.
Not a missing half.
But a co-pilot.

Someone who reads the map with me,
who understands that detours
are not failures,
and silence is not distance.
Someone who knows
that the best journeys
are not solo or scripted
they’re shared, improvised, stereo.

Until then, I stand comfortably here,
in this liminal grace,
where loss has softened into wisdom,
where hope doesn’t shout it hums.

And I walk on,
open-handed,
open-hearted,
ready to say hello
to whoever the road brings next.