People talk about moving on as if it's a destination.
As if one day you wake up and the thing that bothered you is simply gone.
The regret.
The embarrassment.
The conversation you wish had gone differently.
The decision you'd take back if you could.
For a long time, I imagined healing worked like that.
That enough time would eventually erase things.
It doesn't.
At least not the important ones.
The strange thing is that some memories don't actually leave.
They just change position.
At first they're everywhere.
You trip over them constantly.
They interrupt ordinary days.
They show up uninvited.
Years later, they're still there.
Just not in the center anymore.
They're no longer driving every decision.
No longer sitting at the head of the table.
No longer introducing themselves before you do.
Maybe that's what growth looks like more often than people realize.
Not forgetting.
Not winning.
Not finally getting closure.
Just reaching a point where an old memory stops running the room.
If you've ever noticed an old wound becoming quieter instead of disappearing, you might enjoy the next reflection.
