In response to Sadje prompt #322
https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2026/01/
Between the Door and the Shore
At the door,
her small hand learns the weight of maybe.
Wood remembers every knock it has ever held,
every leaving, every return.
Behind her: rooms shaped like safety.
Ahead: grass, sky, the unnamed wide.
At the shore,
a woman counts the quiet in her palm.
Stones keep secrets better than people do.
The sea does not ask where she has been—
only listens as she exhales years.
One stands at the beginning,
one at the edge of remembering.
Both pause.
Both choose not yet, not now.
Between the door and the shore
is a lifetime of thresholds—
moments when we hold something small
and decide whether to step forward
or simply feel the world
touch our hand.
💫Maggie
The Afterlove Voice 💫
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