The phrase echoed through my head. Every time insufficiency constricted my ability to hope, I heard it.

“Do not despise the day of small beginnings”.

I lagged around, drolly attending my household duties and contemplated the ‘what ifs’.  Depression followed me as I moved through daily repetitions.  The tension increased as I thought about dreams fallen through the cracks like the water from my hot tub when it overflowed.  Only after two disastrously watermarked ceilings, and numerous towels and fans later was it contained.  I don’t want my life to leak anymore.

My heart echoed the message it heard years ago.

“You have to start somewhere, and just decide not to care how bad you are when you do.  People who are faithful in the insignificant go on to be great at it if they persist.  You can’t expect expertise when what you really need is experience.”

What if time wasn’t the limit I assumed it was?  All of my perceived limits fell back as if they knew they weren’t adequate in the face of tenacity.  Kids, money, time.  Not a reason not to DO.

As hope rose and I caught my breath, the orange glow of the sun glinted off my coffee table and I realized happiness was a thought away.

“It’s possible.”