Possibility

An open shelf. Something new in the corner of my living room. 

Someone came to build it this morning, and as I sit here looking at it, clean, open, ready, I can't help but think about possibility. I must confess that it's also a strange design and feels a little like an optical illusion as I look at it. 

It could be the laws of physics are playing with me this morning.

I've moved into a new place and while I usually think about the frustration of boxes, and of furniture that takes three to five months to arrive, there's also the beauty and wonder of standing on the threshold of something new. Of being able to craft a home from the ground up. 

And if a home, why not a life?

A new view, new perspective, open space, all leave space for possibility. Considering that I've got decision fatigue, I like the idea of being able to meditate with an open shelf and to reflect on what I might like to include in a new home, a new life I create here.

My daughter is visiting from Chicago. She's good at curation and at letting go of things. Already she's helped me to see a me that I haven't been able to see while buried under so many things. We spent just a little time last night going through clothes.

"Mom," her quizzical gaze focused me, "you don't need this."  

"You can do better than this," she said.

I can do better than this. 

How long do we hold onto things that keep us from doing better for ourselves? It's a worthy question.   

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. 

Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.