The Next Right Thing
She dismounts from her bicycle with muscles tense and forehead sweating. I crouch down beside her, remind her just how far it is she’s come. This time last summer, she didn’t know the power of even the slightest forward motion. Didn’t know the dial was moving when moving felt like fighting, each revolution of the pedal like rewriting all the made-up stories saying she should wring her hands and just go home. Standing here today, she’s fought against gravel, hill, and bloodied knees, and she is everything I hope to say for myself in a day, a month, or perhaps another year, in time. When the blood has dried and, by grace, I've inched to the other side. When I can say, like her, I did the next right thing, and somehow, that was enough.
Tears. Me too, friend 😭♥️
Beautiful.