An in between is what it is. I am an ocean in between two countries, I am the love between two strangers, I am the translator for different languages of grief.
I am the in between.
And in this in between I can cope, I can grow, I can smile.
I can smile.
I can make business deals as well as common folk deals.
I am the in between, but in a way I am the beginning. I just made a deal with one of my friends to suffer a lot less than all our mothers did.
And the in between will remember the wording of the deal, the in between will remind us of the existence of our deal.
The in between is everyday, every day when we spin in the possibility of living or dying.
And then when the time comes for us to physically go, our spirit is free.
The ones on Earth suffer still, taking the hits. As we enter the in between, though, we come to see all the colors, not just the blackest of the black, or the wedding dress white. We come to see magenta, dirt brown, lavender and icy blue. The in between is a state of knowing – this life – this gift – is today. There is no yesterday. There is no tomorrow. Just the now of the in between.
In the in between we are witness to so much, it’s not possible to describe. Writers have been trying to for years, but there’s so much in the in between. And in the in between we can make deals with the Devil, with common folk, with nobility, with the mailman, when the letters of joy, of sorrow and of great news come.
The in between exists for those who see life is truly a colorful gift.
Natalie Cronin
