We don’t know the journey when we start out. We think we’ve picked the path, but turns out that trail is closed. So we take a detour. And follow some breadcrumbs. And hope that we’re not in the same woods as Hansel and Gretel, lest the witch’s candy distract us. We plod on. Sometimes with flashlights, the only illumination being the beam directly ahead. The rest dark and shrouded in mystery. And that, my dating friend, ends up being our life.
What is love but a series of small decisions made under impossible circumstances? One by one, they add up to years.
~ A Seahorse Year by Stacey D’Erasmo