Porch Light

 I'd like to think of this part or my life as the bridge. This is the moment after the start and just before the middle of my life - a liminal space with red arrows pointing towards the next exit. I follow the white rabbit that follows the urge. 

The light at the end of this tunnel is a warm golden glow of a porch light flickering on.

(I know what the middle looks like. What is feels and tastes and sounds like: I am in a beautiful, calm home. I place a bowl of Halloween candy on the entryway table for our guests to take. The sound of our autumn playlist hums softly from the living room. Her heels clicking against the tile as she paces in the kitchen. I close my eyes and listen and listen and listen.)

So really, I am no better than a bug. The porch light beckons and I follow.