Sky was gray and a soft mist fell, world warmed and changing light-dream snow to despond of mist that rose at times to drizzle.
Inside, at island, he looked to book beside. It had a cover of bright and bursting colors. He read the title, and then small sub beneath, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear.
It made him think. It made him wonder as attention turned from book to her in merriment of morning thoughts warmed of coffee and inner spirit.
He wondered, so he asked.
“Do you have fears? Do they still control what you do and don’t, or have you learned to break through and live beyond?”
Her merriment was unchanged.
“We all have fears,” she responded. “We’d be lying if we said we didn’t. We’d be lying if we said they didn’t have effects and sometimes deter us from an action, a making, and set limits to intentions and expressions we open-share.
I have my fears. I’m not free and beyond—but I’m better than I’ve been.
I’m better than I was. I’ve learned and grown to press the limits when I feel and know them there but believe a better, or discovery, is awaiting just beyond.
I dare.
We’ll never be perfect. We’ll never be beyond or without them, but we can always choose and make effort to keep growing, daring, to be better than we’ve been.”
He smiled. Hers mirrored his at sight.
“I like that,” he spoke.
“So do I.”
Her smile expanded and as it grew fast-covered in rise and coffee-draw.
Speaking, a fear lessened; movement—not beyond but further through. Like sun through morning gray, he felt light of the other side.
Not beyond, but further through, she remained merry in her morning thoughts. Beside her, he was glad—her spirit and glow of thoughts a light through melancholy of the gray.