Past and present converge as if to confirm our potential. What we were, and are, seem only slightly separated by time, and we’re left to wonder how long, and what form, our next iteration will take.

What to do at this particular fork? Succumb to the questions, the doubts, the what-ifs and regrets? Or rejoice in the knowledge that wisdom requires us to travel a winding road? To question our experience, to dig deep enough to find the treasure that the process of self-discovery slowly (but surely) reveals.

Maybe we can walk both roads, so long as we end up on the latter. Or maybe they’re the same road, separating us from our future much like we are from our past.

If we had it to do over again, I think we’d all change some things. Much as we may be content with where, and who, we are, it’s unlikely we’d choose to replicate on every detail. That said, today is our future’s past. It’s the place and time we’ll one day look back on and formulate our what-ifs.

If we’ve got changes to make, best to do so now. It’s a much better strategy than regret.

This angel sits precariously upon my awareness, giving or accepting gifts, according to his struggles.

Sometimes he urges me, ‘Grasp onto that soft pedal of hope, futile as it seems to hold on to something only the mind’s eye can see.’ And yet in those moments, he assures me all things are possible. And I believe him.

Other times he begs for help, and I deliver in the best way that I can. Often it’s with the loving patience that any angel – certainly this angel – deserves. Sometimes though, I fail him. I crush that pedal between fingers intent on pointing out failures, resolved to holding onto the last negligible traces of control.

These are my quiet disgraces and I feel their weight long after he’s forgotten my breach.

But as with any angel (or so I assume…is it true of yours as well?), he floats above it all, dipping in and out as wont or need (his or mine) requires, but always elevating sufficiently to shine his light upon me.

Light I revel in, though recently have begun to respect in a new way. That he offers his so freely, I once believed it came easily to him. That it’s all he has to offer. But wishful thinking is forgivable for only so long.

No, my angel sheds light despite his darkness. Despite his pain. Despite the turmoil that tries so hard – always unsuccessfully – to diminish his radiance.

Faith is intrinsic to his demeanor, and it inspires me to believe in the future. To believe that even the smallest among us can scoff in the face of inertia, and alter the path for all of us. One man. One woman. One child.

One.

That’s all it takes.

That, and the vision to see what might not be apparent today. Like what you’d be capable of sacrificing under the right conditions. Like what I’d be able to endure if such endurance was requisite to the freedom (in the truest sense) of the people I love. Like the power of a single, resolute voice. Like the strength of a small, but growing, idea.

Or the light of one angel.