Transitions

Lately I've been spending my time in transitions. As I write a book based off a long series of blog posts, each its own thread of memory, its own stream of thought, it's a challenge to string them together, like beads on a ribbon, into one, cohesive piece. Maybe it's because I'm living it, and because each vignette comes from my own mind, it's hard to view them objectively and come up with a way transition between days, weeks and months that makes sense and doesn't sound forced.

The rest of my life is living a transition, or, more accurately, a transformation. I feel like the flowers that bloom a little more each day as I walk by them on my way to the park. So closed for so long, I am finally open. Maybe a few staples were missed, a metal plate forgotten, and it left a part of my mind exposed. The world is fresh and full of bright colors and blurred lines that I'd never seen before. Something more was taken out of me during that surgery than a piece of brain and it left a chink in my armor.