Absolution

"Just be where your feet are." The mantra ricochets around my mind like an unleashed pinball, forcing me to limit my awareness to the present moment. I become aware of my breath, the feeling of my ribcage expanding. "This moment is the only thing that exists." It's an effective shield against the stress of newness, the answer to the question (what now!?) that follows the chaos of fighting with the half-boy. There is little time for rest and you have to cleave from yourself the parts that would have you cling forever to comfort. They tell you that growth can only happen in the maelstrom and there is no choice but to believe that's true. Otherwise -- no; it's not a door that should even be opened. Comfort can come ten years hence when we have all day to visit book stores, coffee shops, float. Pleasant thoughts of the future turn to worry and the incessant clatter of what if threatens to tear me asunder. I force my focus back to my feet and the mantra pings itself again to the forefront of my mind. It has become a trusted friend and I am grateful for that. For now, I will just exist precisely where my feet are.