Chrysalis

There come moments in life

when we are more than who we were,

and less than who we have yet to become.

I remember you there,

standing at the edge of something new,

the path unfolding.

You laid your greatest fears on the table,

brave enough to walk forward

without knowing how it ends.

Not enough is said about the space between—

or the courage it takes to continue

as the ground shifts beneath your steps.

I remember you.

Mid-walk. Mid-thought.

Led down a familiar trail,

its curves etched into memory

by the milestones of past years.

If only those old oak trees could speak,

they’d spill the secrets

suspended by a quiet tension,

hanging in the air.

You walked alongside your loved ones,

one hand in a toddler’s grip,

the other in your partner's.

Spring light peeked through the oaks,

warming your flushed cheeks.

You existed in a glossy daze,

a mind completely at ease.

And yet I know now,

you sensed it, too.

The thrill of what was coming,

quieted by chortled laughter,

the unspoken ache of family,

gone too long between visits.

So much was left unseen.

The ring in his pocket,

the words on his lips.

The cosmos was rearranging,

by how much, you didn't know.

A cherished memory never knows its fate,

or exactly what it will mean

to the one who carries it.

It lives first only in the moment

to be replayed and revisited,

at a dreamer’s whim.

If you were wise

and I believe you were,

You paused between your steps,

sensing change,

without being changed.

Dreaming, as girls often do,

of what might come,

of all you have yet to be.

It's there that life is undefined,

possibilities not yet realized,

like the chrysalis of a butterfly.

No one knows better than I,

just how badly you were ready.

You longed to adore your wings—

to see the pattern,

the path,

to experience the long journey.

You wanted that more than anyone knew.

But you stayed in the pause.

And that mattered.

You slowed,

to remember this feeling,

this version of yourself,

this chapter.

I’m grateful you did.

Because now, when it’s all only a memory,

I can still feel her.

We're more connected than ever.

The toddler’s hand,

the surprise ring,

the breathless waiting.

You gave me that vivid recall.

Step. Pause.

Step. Pause.

No rush. Deep breaths.

Before the leap,

you let yourself say goodbye.

To bring the best parts with you.

Space to remember.

Room to become.