The Middle of the Story

Hi my friend,

I like to live my life imagining 
it is a fairy tale.

There are days that feel like sunshine -
where hope walks along my every step.
Where the future looks like a beautiful garden 
filled with fragrant roses.

And no matter how loudly 
the kids bicker in the back seat,
I can continue driving 
and smile at them in the rearview mirror.

Those days feel like bliss.
But then there are days like today…

When I feel lost in the Fog.
When no matter how hard I try 
to find my way out,
I feel myself being pulled deeper 
into the dark forest.

The nighttime is approaching.
Soon, it will be dark.
And I hope that any moment now, 
I'll find my way back…

But until I do,
it will be just me… 
and the Fog.

 
 

In the past, 
when the Fog arrived,
I used to run faster and faster…
Trying to outrun its presence.
Trying to do something 
- anything -
to escape the unknown.

But now, I can sense it coming
before I even see it.

And I know that soon,
it will ask me to go within.
To take a closer look at 
myself and my life,
to tend to the places 
I've been too busy 
to notice.

The Fog is not my favorite 
part of the story,
but I am beginning 
to understand it.

It does not come to swallow me whole,
but to soften the edges 
of what I thought I knew.

It wraps around me,
pausing my footsteps,
softly whispering:
Slow down. Feel. Listen.

And so, I do.

Because every fairy tale 
has its dark forests,
its winding paths, 
its moments of uncertainty.

But they are never 
the end of the story.

They are where the magic happens.
Where the heroine finds her strength.
Where the lanterns begin to glow,
guiding her back home.

And just like that, 
I remember -

the Fog always lifts.
The path always clears.
And even in the thick of it,
I am never truly lost.

Just in the middle of the story,
my friend.

With love,
Elina

 
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The Language of Gravity

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The Hospital & The Joy