by Ariella Mendez
Nobody could pinpoint exactly when the shift happened. There was no thunder and lightning or sky changing colors dramatically. It happened silently, so quietly that most people didn’t even notice it happening. Except her.
It started with the mornings. It was like the world took a moment to consider if it was really going to keep being the world, with its colors and its sky, that wasn’t dark anymore but also wasn’t bright yet. It was like the wind wasn’t sure which way to blow and just brushed past her shoulder as if it were about to say something but thought better of it.
Even her house seemed off. Her floorboards made sounds in places they shouldn’t. Her kettle seemed to take a bit longer to get going. Her clock even seemed to be ticking a bit crooked, like time had started walking with a limp.
She told herself it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. People have enough to worry about without making up new things to be worried about. Yet, somehow the feeling wound its way through her life, and she’d stare at her morning coffee cup like there was a secret inside that would explain everything. She’d be walking her usual morning path only for her feet to feel like they were walking through shifting sands, the path a little shorter one day and a little longer the next, like she was being led to a place she hadn’t planned to go.
“It’s nothing,” she said to herself. “Just a feeling.” “A mood.” “A funny thought.”
But the universe kept giving her these signs. The bird on the fence, staring at her with too much intention. The door she’d already shut, now slightly ajar. A familiar song on the radio, sounding as though it had been recorded in another room.
The uncertainty wasn’t a fear – at least not yet – but a possibility. It was like standing on the edge of a story that was still trying to figure out its ending, like an introduction that didn’t quite know which version of itself it was going to become.
One evening, she walked outside and the air was impossibly still. The sky was colored in a hue she didn’t have a name for and the world seemed to be holding its breath, suspended in waiting.
She had no idea what was about to happen.
She had no idea what had already happened.
But she knew this.
The uncertainty was not a warning but an invitation.
And for the first time, she was ready to accept it.
Art by Fiona Pratt, “The Woods Breathe“
About the Author
Ariella hopes to improve health policy. She’s driven by a belief in fair, accessible care and uses her voice to advocate for meaningful change.