I was ashing in a candle while I was listening to her tell me that I missed the target that I was aiming to hit. (I think because I was aiming in the first place.) I'm learning that the only thing you can count on are your own two feet and your own ideas, but not the ones you imagine for the future (because they can be construed by all those others' outside ideas and thus making it into something completely new.) but those you feel and live through that shape your idea of your day. Of your experience. Every day. Nothing I thought was going to happen over these last few months came to be, besides the physical destinations. (They came, they went.) But all the other made up futures were just that, mythical endings to stories I wasn't even writing. You know what did happen? These beautiful adventures and memories where I least expected them.
I guess that was the point.
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