Six Green Lights

On my way to work, there is a long, straight street with six traffic lights. I have driven it almost every day for years.

And every morning, through the hardest of those years, I made the same wish. If I make it through all six on green, everything will be okay soon. I believed it with my whole heart. I held my breath at every crossing. I watched each light as if my life depended on it.

One morning, it happened. Six green lights, one after another. I drove through them almost in disbelief.

But the pain did not go away.

I read my horoscope every day, too, searching for an answer, a sign, some sentence that would finally tell me what to do. Looking back, it seems almost silly. And I think it really was.

But it was also hope, looking for somewhere to live.

When you've been hurting for a long time, you start to wish for a magic button. One thing that will fix it all at once. A green light, a lucky day, the right words in the stars. I understand now that there is no button. Something broken so deeply doesn't mend in one morning.

But here is the strange part: I still believe.

Not in traffic lights anymore. In something slower. In small steps, taken one at a time. In words written down, so they don't disappear. In this place, HerWay, which I'm building piece by piece, the way you rebuild anything that matters.

Maybe it won't fix everything. But it's mine. And every time I add a story, it feels a little like one more light turning green.

If you have your own six lights, your own small signs you hold on to, I won't tell you they're foolish. Hold on to them if they help you get through the morning. Just don't wait for them to save you. Keep taking the small steps too.

The lights will change when they change. You keep driving.

With love, from HerWay

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