I opened door number two and saw my precious daughter sleeping soundly. I longed to cuddle next to her, for I didn't know how many more times I would get a chance to be that close to someone who once felt like an inseparable extension of me but now was becoming her own autonomous entity that had a mind as imaginative and untameable as my own.
I opened door number three and heard the music calling me to sing loudly and freely with no inhibition. Song after song begged to resonate out of me.
I opened door number four and saw the pencil and the paper. Exploring faces, loved ones, in a moment in time. Bringing them to life to share with others in a way I never could if I did not enter that door.
I opened door number five and saw the words in my mind recklessly flowing in all directions, looking for some comprehensible connection that would bring them freedom. They called me to write them down and permit them to purposefully become.
I opened door number six and saw the beckon of a welcoming book. A story that reminded me there were lives glaringly stranger than mine. Sorrows dreadfully deeper. Opportunities better grasped. Secrets more hidden.
I opened door number seven and my mind longed to aimlessly calculate. Finding numbers on autopilot as its thoughts actively wandered but had no mandate to commit.
I opened door number eight and felt the exhilaration of running and heard my heart pounding methodically like my feet hitting the pavement.
I opened door number nine and felt my spirit long to embrace unconditional love. To bask in humble thankfulness for all I am able to experience and to supplicate for all that is to come.
But...
I entered door number ten and lazily sat wasting my time flipping from one internet page to the next curiously looking at topics I would not rightfully give priority to at the end of another busy day.
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