Some days were more challenging, with my will to take those steps overshadowed by the decline in motivation.

The rain misted my skin as the thick, humid air made it difficult to take a deep breath. I swatted at mosquitoes as they landed strategically on my exposed skin and attempted to make their presence known. Little bastards, I thought as I caught the one that landed on my neck. I was ripe for their feeding but in no mood for their bullshit.

I felt like I was on a roller coaster, slowly creeping up the track to reach the peak that would change things up. And I feared the downward force would implode my emotions once I got to that altitude. I knew enough to walk away, take to the road or anywhere, and work through it.

Some days were more challenging, with my will to take those steps overshadowed by the decline in motivation.

Why did putting one foot in front of the other seem so heavy these days? It was like I had cement tied to each ankle; some days, I felt like sinking to the bottom. The entanglement of emotion was like the most delicate of threads. Each was carefully intertwined but strong enough to let me ricochet if I got too close. I knew I could break through. And I knew that beneath that web was the harvest of strength I needed.

It was all there for the taking if I was willing to do the work.

The crash of the water against the rocks caught my attention, along with the melody of the birds overhead. I stopped for a moment. My senses heightened as I watched the way the river flowed so swiftly. I listened to it thrust so effortlessly. And I smelled the dewy dampness of the rain. My skin felt prickly as the mist fell, and something made me shiver.

I had wandered these roads for years now. Each one welcomed me. It didn’t matter what season, time, or day. Their openness paved the way for me. We were like old friends. They never minded if I had been absent for a day or a year. We always picked up where we left off. Today was no different.

I laughed a little as I realized I was on Sanctuary Road. So many times, when I stopped here, I felt all crumpled up inside. Yet here I was in my sanctuary on Sanctuary Road. The irony didn’t escape me. I was grateful for a space where I could be my ugliest with no one to judge. Except for me, as I had become my worst critic.

I wondered how that happened. How did I become so critical of me? Why couldn’t I see what had been there all along? Or was it that I didn’t want to see it?

I could hear the thunder off in the distance and suspected the angels were ramping up for one hell of a bowling game. They knew how to play and get a stunning strike that lit up the sky. I closed my eyes and began to count to ten.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

The thunder roared closer. Eight, nine, ten.

And then I took a breath. It was something I had learned as a child to keep me calm.

I was not too fond of thunderstorms back then. I had been alone one afternoon when a fierce one struck, and I swore the thunder rattled my bedroom. My heart raced, and I hid under the covers until the battle stopped.

It is funny how things change because I love thunderstorms now. I know it is my loved ones who have passed that are up there bowling, and each time the sky lights up, I take it as a sign they were saying hello.

Still, I didn’t want to get caught in the storm. But by the looks of the clouds, it seemed to be moving faster than I anticipated. Could I outrun it? Should I seek shelter? Either way, I knew I could weather it. Tumultuous or not, I would find a way to face the storm.