Hall of Mirrors.

I = have this image in my head of a ladder leant against the side of a mountain. A huge ladder scaling a huge mountain. And there I am, three quarters of the way up, wearing blue jeans and a red shirt. The wind is a constant, the dust is a bitch. I’m climbing with purpose, hell-bent on success. But it’s not for me to know what waits at the top. And isn’t this the way it goes? Because, how can I know?

The baby is due in less than three months and I’m starting to get a little antsy. I’ve been made aware by people around me as well as by my own intuition, that what lies ahead will change our lives forever. But what does that mean? At this point all I can do is imagine, but you can’t imagine yourself into being prepared. And ok, perhaps that’s the point, we won’t be prepared and it’s going to knock us for six, chew us up and spit us out some twenty years down the road. But it’s one thing to know this and another thing to know this.

Excitement and angst dance back and forth until they meet in the middle and move as one.