Breadcrumbs Back to Myself

When I seem to lose my way

My human lighthouses show up and remind me

I don’t have to face the dark alone.

Without any prompting

Or my saying so

They arrive with their tethered torches

bearing my name,

Look up they say, let us guide you home.

We’ll shine the light

for the trail of

breadcrumbs you can follow,

Back to yourself.

Thirty, forty years

goes by in a blink,

And still they’re here

unwavering.

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I remembered something about magic recently, that when I am happiest it pops up, but also, when I am at my lowest, it shines like a beacon for better days. That’s what my lighthouses are too, magic in the mundane, providing infinite goosebumps. Like a random text message from my oldest friend reaching out from 2000 miles away to tell me how grateful she is for that fateful day as kids when she moved in next door and we happened to meet, choosing each other to go through life with. Or when my other oldest friend sends me a message the same exact moment I’m thinking of her. Tethers to each other - always. I think that’s the best magic of all, because it’s a reminder of what’s real.

A reminder that I always have breadcrumbs back to myself.

Photo by Ricardo Rocha on Unsplash