Fearlessly or Otherwise

 
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The month was January, but it was a Southern California kind of winter. Actually, this one had noticeably more rainfall than the last few. As the drops beaded down the window, I wrote “1-3-19” at the bottom of the page. Once I realized my mistake, I picked up the pen again and incremented the last two digits accordingly. Old habits. There was so much ahead, but if I was honest it felt like I was being pushed more than pulled forward. Objects in the rear-view really are always closer than the mirror suggests, and I knew that I couldn’t afford to slow down too much.

The last twelve months had been a strange road. The odometer and my eyes were in profound disagreement, and at the turning point of yet another year it once again felt like I’d hardly moved, if at all. Maybe the gauges were broken. The scenery was nice, though nothing new, while all of the same struggles and challenges of yesteryear still loomed large in the mirror. I did my best to put it out of mind. ‘Tis the season - I reminded myself - for looking forward, so I pulled my eyes away from the rearward reflections and put them back onto the lines in front of me.

The first empty page they found was about two thirds of the way through the small journal. I didn’t bother to check the date on the previous entry but it must’ve been at least a few months prior, and I was more than ready to turn the page on everything that had elapsed since then. The blank parchment begged its fundamental question. I thought long and hard. At this point it seemed more like a riddle.

Finally, I penned my answer: “Forward, fearlessly or otherwise.”

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