threshold

she stands at the door and knocks, the Alice in her wondering at the adventures that lay behind it, her feet twitching in excitement for the slippery dip of unknown twists and turns that may lead her here or lead her there.

her heart races as the door cracks open, a slither of light peeking through and, as she squints against its brightness she breaths in hard and pushes it, the heat of that light bursting through and washing warm across her skin.

she exhales. inhales. exhales. her foot lifts and hovers over the threshold, one more inhale and over it goes. now in no-mans-land, teetering between two worlds, she hesitates. should I, she thinks?

one more inhale and over she goes, the weight of her body thrust forward, her back foot planted squarely across the line. exhale.

that overly warm wash of light floods her senses. her mind slows; an unfamiliar calmness, a pervasive quietness pulls her in and she steps closer to the source of it, pursuing it at a snail’s pace, feeling the deep joy of taking one moment at a time, her default pace kept at bay in this place of non-hurry, non-noise, non-expectation.

the clock chimes. her eyes flutter and squint at the early morning light. inhale, exhale, too fast, she chides.

deep breath in, slow breath out, keeping hold of that moment in between worlds, promising the Alice in her heart to pull that world of unknown peace and joy into her day, the pace of reality striking her as her feet hit the winter-cold floor.