A thousand times, I might have turned back. It was cold outside, with wind sharp as a knife piercing the fabric of my coat. I'd gone out seeking silence and solitude, where my thoughts could sort themselves out to the rhythm of my footsteps, crushing through the icy snow. I stopped, breath steaming in front of my face, the warm air stinging my skin. Ahead, the trail branched, turning. I'd been down here a thousand times. I knew what was around that bend. I could turn around, go home.
I whispered it like a prayer. You never know, you never know, you never know.
A deer or snowy owl might be just around the bend. The trees might be iced with frost that would only last a few minutes as the sun rose. A few more minutes in the cold and all my thoughts might fall in place.
My mantra played out like a heartbeat. You never know.
I stood still. The forest felt heavy with silence. Waiting to see if I would continue or turn back. Give up. Go home.
Sticking my cold fingers under my arms, I weighed it out. Already I had made my choice. I was just procrastinating, feet turning numb in my boots.
Ahead, there was the unknown, the untried, the unchallenged.
You never know.
I stuck my boot through the unbroken snow and started walking.
***
Write about anything. Anything you take minutes out of your life to do, is worth writing about. Every word you write takes you further along the writing path. Pause to consider, not to turn back. Then keep going, keep writing.
Because, after all, you never know.
