I've come to be standing on the sidewalk at night, in front of the turn-off to my home, ready to say good-bye to the group who's walked me this far in the dark. I can take a candle and borrow some of the light to get me to my door, but I have to put my back to the warmth and walk into the shadows to get to where I'm going.
It's a heavy and familiar metaphor, one that sags in my head as I skim the beginning and question myself as to whether this is a good decision. It's not an easy business saying good-bye to something that you've been a part of and imagining it continue while you dim and fade in the distance. On the other hand, it's hard to see the other paths when you're blinded by the one you're on.
Too often over the past couple of years I've found myself at this juncture and I can attest that I've spend more time looking back over my shoulder and aching for things to go "back to normal" than I have adapting to new situations. I'm still writing and I hope that I've got enough determination to finish the novel I'm working on and risk the rejection of agents and publishing houses (should there be any left) when I'm done. I hope that I have enough imagination to patch the plot holes and lift the airless plot up where it belongs. ;)
Right now, though, I'm going to take a few minutes and be grateful for those who helped me get this far and sad that I'm no longer going to have their company for the rest of the way. I wish we could have remained walking in the same direction. Thanks.