A hundredth of a second. That teeny, tiny moment before she says the words that you know are coming, the words you see in her eyes. A hundredth of a second and a hundred years all at once.
I think I want to go to “real” school.
I think I want you to go to “real” school, too.
And so it was.
And ever-so-quickly we made the calls, signed the papers, provided the proof that yes, we are indeed alive and living and in this place at this moment…something that on paper sounds simple, but is it really?
We both knew, in a hundredth of a second, that she was right, that our heart-guts were searching for answers and then oof just like that, our truths collided and we both knew this was the right thing to do.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Seven hundredths of a degree. That’s how far we moved. Seven hundredth of a degree to the north and just under three tenths of a degree east. A hop and a skip and a leap and a bound all at once.
I think we should move.
Me, too.
Words uttered months ago, maybe even years ago, in the darkness of a quiet room long after the chaos of life died down.
The slow and arduous process began, and we found what we were looking for – or thought we did – until it was ripped from under us and we walked away with drooping shoulders and moist eyes.
And then doors opened, and fate – or something like it – stepped in. One bit of truth after another sang to me, to us. My heart-gut heard, and I said yes.
And we moved.
A world apart, but only the smallest part of the world.
And yet somehow still a whole, wide world apart.
Life changed, continues to change.
As it should.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Two hundredths of an inch. A movement so small, just barely there. That shift in your heart and in your head. The changing of who you are, bit by tiny bit. Ever-changing, we are. Millions of moments of milliseconds that make up a lifetime.
I’ve always been me.
I will always be me.
I know this to be true.
And yet I wonder.
We change, all of us.
And as we change, are we still us?
Is there a point, some magical point, when we have changed so much
that me is no longer me, but someone else entirely?
Who I am and what I was.
Ever-changing and never-changing.
Defining and then redefining.
Fundamental changes expected, yet not.
The rush and go of life, the tumbles up and down…
Knocking away the rough edges gradually, almost imperceptibly.
But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
This is the story of our lives
Of all of me and all of you.
A package full of fractions waiting to be made whole.
Sky View Lite 
