The Shape of Leaving

The Shape of Leaving

I once thought leaving meant movement,

bags packed, doors closed,

feet carrying certainty somewhere else,

distance making everything easier.

Now I know leaving arrives quietly,

inside changed habits and new thoughts,

inside moments when old places

stop feeling like home.

Some versions of me disappeared softly,

without ceremony or grief,

simply replaced by choices

I never noticed making.

There were days of holding on,

days of refusing change entirely,

as if enough effort could preserve

what time had already altered.

Yet life keeps opening new rooms,

asking us to enter without maps,

asking trust from tired hands

and patience from uncertain hearts.

I resisted for longer than necessary,

thinking certainty would eventually appear,

instead I found something stranger—

the ability to continue anyway.

Not every goodbye deserves mourning,

not every ending arrives wounded,

sometimes people outgrow places

with quiet gratitude.

So I no longer fear leaving,

only forgetting to arrive,

forgetting to notice where I stand

while always reaching elsewhere.

#Marie381UkWriter