I have been thinking a lot about the future, not just in terms of goals, but in terms of the kind of life I want to grow into. I want something solid, something gentle. A life that holds room for joy without guilt, and for meaning without noise. I want to build something that lasts, not necessarily in scale or visibility, but in its ability to hold people, to hold me. That is the longing.
There is also a quiet wish I carry. I want the things I have walked through, the decisions, the stumbles, the becoming, to count for more than just survival. I want the people I care about to be better because I was here. I want to matter, not loudly, but deeply. I want my life to offer something others can lean into. That is the wish.
But I am learning that not everything I hold onto is meant to stay. I am learning that some dreams expire. Some relationships settle in memory, not in presence. Some seasons close, not because they were bad, but because they have done their work. I used to fight that. I used to think letting go was failure. Now I am starting to see it differently, as part of the rhythm of growth.
Letting go is no longer something I do out of defeat. It is something I do out of trust. I release what no longer fits because I believe something else is being prepared. I do not always see it clearly, and I do not always feel ready. But I am learning. Slowly, and sometimes with a heavy heart, I am learning.
Nugget: Letting go is not losing. It is trusting that what was once right may no longer be needed for where you are going.
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