I’m in transition.

Vacation to home. Summer to fall. From the known and safe to the unknown and uncertain.

In the space between here and there, I am in charge of the transition. What’s just ahead may be impossible for me to predict and somewhat out of my control, but I can choose how I travel there: smooth and intentionally or abrupt and jarring.

What have I learned on this side of the transition that I can take with me to the other side? What mementos of me will I leave behind – evidence I was here – parts and pieces, ways of being which no longer serve me? What souvenirs must I pack? What memories will I carefully tape into my scrapbook? What stories will I tell to those who were not here? Later, what photographs will I find of moments I no longer clearly remember?

There’s parallel living between the understanding and acceptance of what was … and anticipation of what will be and what’s to come. Who I’ll meet. Where I’ll go. What I’ll see. How I’ll feel.

But aren’t we really always transitioning? One day to the next. Work week to weekend. Year to year. Yesterday to today to tomorrow. What we get isn’t always what we expect. After all, any forecast is circumstantial and sometimes unreliable.

This is a time just before and just after.

Time gently tugs me toward tomorrow when I’m not ready to let go of yesterday and I’m still living today. It’s hard not to feel a little sad, a little wistful, with a few regrets tucked into my pocket. Wish I hads. Should’ve dones.

But.

Gratitude also straddles this space between here and there. Pride too. Hope and history, both. A place of pause. Breath-catching. Nerve-steadying. One last look back before taking a step forward.

In transition and thankful.