The Space Between

The space between.
It’s there… it’s always there but so often we forget about the significance of the time that passes within the milestones of our lives. Sometimes we’re gifted years, sometimes days, and other times mere hours to experience all that can happen between a beginning and an end.

I woke this morning at the normal time and wandered onto the deck to check the weather. The moon was shining brightly- a sliver of light that illuminated the pre-dawn sky. I tried to capture it with my camera, but settled on the memory in place of an adequate photo.
I moved back inside to write like I always do, looking up when caught between thoughts to watch the sky slowly turn from black to blue- streaks of pink in the glow that hovered above the water. And then, something different… a familiar swirl of white that teased. I missed a launch in the dark of the night. As luck would have it, the rocket blasted over my head from the north at the same moment my eyes were focused on the slice of natural light to the south.
I closed my journal and headed down to the beach, ready to dig my heels in the sand and wait for the sun to rise.
The moon seemed to sit there, suspended in the sky, waiting for the sun to climb to the horizon. Waiting to be released from its nighttime watch.
The space between. Dark and light… each seemingly lasts forever but the change occurs in moments.

Sometimes I go so deep into my thoughts that I don’t realize how long I’ve walked. My watch reminded me I’d been heading south for more than an hour. An hour at low tide, when the beach is wide and the sand is hard. It’s easy to walk at this time but as I turned around I noticed dark clouds rolling in from the north and the tide moving farther up the beach.
Knowing it was going to be hard work, I pulled off my jacket and shoved it in my bag. I kept as close as I could to the water’s edge so I wouldn’t sink into the soft dry sand as I headed toward home.
The space between. Here and there. Not so far on my way out, but forever on my way back.

This thought has been with me for a while now. The realization of how much can occur between a beginning and an end no matter how long the span in-between. I’ve witnessed a lifetime of love and joy, fear and sorrow condensed into a matter of days. I’ve also watched on as a lifetime of love and joy, fear and sorrow extend over many decades.
The space between. Birth and death. Not enough time. Never enough.

My hip is throbbing. I’m hot. And I’m walking at an angle… I bet I’m a sight to behold. The sun is blazing overhead and even though I’m working my way back home at a casual pace, I’m exhausted. I’m frustrated because I know five years ago this would have been a piece of cake. How did I get here… why did I let myself go? But then again my watch is now creeping toward five miles. I’m barefoot and in wet sand. That’s pretty good, right?
The space between. Shame and joy. It’s all in the way you look at it.

I am finally home. I reflect on the spaces between moments, between joy and sorrow, between beginnings and ends. Life, I realize, is a journey compressed into the space between birth and death. Despite exhaustion and frustration, there's room for hope and effort in every step forward. I choose to see the triumph in the journey, embracing the spaces between with gratitude and hope for what lies ahead.