A poem for my grandma…

                         Options
   I used to think life handed out one path, a single road lit by shaky street lamps, all the other choices hidden deep in the shadows.  I wasn’t ready to step into it yet.
    But I learned, truth lives quieter than that–in the pockets of empty space where nothing happens for days.  In the pause before you say yes or no.  In the breath that asks “what if I just walked the other way?”
     Options aren’t loud.  They don’t slam themselves on the table. They wait, steady, patiently.  Like doors leaning open just enough for the light to shine through.
     Sometimes the door leads to nowhere and that’s a lesson too.  Maybe the real power, is not choosing the “right one” it’s knowing you’re allowed to choose at all, the story isn’t locked.
     I have learned this: Freedom doesn’t shout, it whispers.  You can be anything, anytime
     And now, when I walk, I carry all my doors open with me, not as burdens but as proof.  That I am never stuck, never finished, never out of ways to become myself.  
     Happy birthday Grandma, love you!