Have you ever felt caught in between? It's hardly a question that needs asking; surely we all have at one point or another. Whether it is between the beginning and the end, night and day, one goal and the next. Milestone after milestone we find ourselves in the middle, never obtaining.
Let me create an image for you. There is a girl - nay, a woman. Perhaps she sees herself as merely a girl at times, destined never to be grown; her features aren't greatly defined, her build is short and petite, her figure shapeless. Maybe she doesn't like how her nose is an agitated shade of red most of the time, or that her eyes are always tired and half closed. Then she is proud of her hair; long and flowing, varying in shades of auburn, red and gold. Her interests are as coming and going as the phases of the moon, her motivation as fickle as the autumn weather. At times her talent flows freely, she is outgoing and excitable. At others, it seems but a distant memory, and she is reserved and quiet.
Should she be one way or another, left or right and intently so? I say not! Where she might have a temperament, she is also many times that cheerful and almost constantly eager to please. In the flaws of her appearance - which may well be endearments in the eyes of others - she has found humility, which glows brighter than any face a person can posses by good genes, and is likewise not passed down by parents but blessed on far fewer by good grace. By her demeanor she can lift the spirits of a room as much as five women of good breeding that she might think herself less than. She is always striving, always growing.
We are not whole in spite of our flaws, we all whole because of them. The day needs the night, the sky would be naught without the clouds and the storms, happiness is only appreciated wholly if it follows sadness. To think yourself whole or complete would on the contrary leave us far from it. For imagine a world where there are no intermediates - we only have the summer and winter, the night and the day, the old and the new, the wise and the dull, and consider for a moment what tragedy it might entail!
While this girl sits and ponders in the waning evening light, considering what chances have not come or what chances have gone by, indeed not considering what simply is... she does not realize something very clearly right in front of her - that in between the night and day, something happens that is far more beautiful than the beginning or the end.
She does not realize that she is the sunset, and the sunrise. The autumn and the spring. She is in between, yes - and no less whole. For we are all perpetually in between, and the sooner we realize that our ending is just as arbitrary as our beginning, the sooner we will find comfort in what it means to simply live.
Here's to the intermediate.
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