I feel the lump form in my throat as I stare down the path, it feels almost akin to staring down the barrel of a gun, for me at least.

I keep watching, waiting for it to be swallowed up by the sea of grass that surrounds it. Like somehow it will make things easier if the choice to move forward was removed. But I know this needs to happen.

“Breathe” she says, as though my body is likely to forget it’s basic survival mechanics if she doesn’t remind me.

The resentment swells in me. Resentment for her, for bringing me here, to this place.

Resentment for all those who walk this path daily with the full lightness of step that mirrors the weightlessness of their minds.

Meanwhile, I stand here. A beast of burden.

“It’s just one step, and then another” she reminds me. Though I can’t help taking in the length in its entirety. I have been staring at that entirety for 15 years. To diminish it to steps seems impossible at this point.

I stand in silence, procrastinating. Always procrastinating.

“It’s time” she says to me softly.

I take a deep breath filling my lungs with air as though it contains the courage that I need to begin this journey.

It doesn’t.

“Maybe tomorrow” I say to her.

She quietly nods in acceptance, though I can see the sadness in her eyes.

There have been so many tomorrows now.