She is her own self, and yet for now, for a few more weeks she and I are linked, not quite one and not separately two. And then she’ll decide it is time to be whole and complete outside of me. It is exciting to think of this moment for her and me. It is saddening to think of it too. I will miss the silent link through the fluid and movement. She will give me somethnig else in its place.

My thoughts have shifted from what they used to be just 365 days ago. I’m consumed by this new life. Before I was consumed by a different sort of life that lived not in flesh and blood. And before that a life imagined and full of possibility. And before that I dwelled on a life unlived. And through each I’ve pushed forward because somehow I remembered movement is essential to life.

I’m ready I tell myself optimistically. I’m nowhere near ready I fear deep down.

Three weeks. Maybe two. Maybe tomorrow. She’ll decide and while it still seems far away, I feel like I need more time. Let’s go back a few weeks. I was able to visualize the end—the new beginning—without the fear of it sliding right up to my nose with a smile and a hello.

But she decides. And I will remember that she is whole and one and not me. And though she’s mine in the sense that she is from me, I don’t own her. She owns herself. And I’m looking forward to whoever she is.