Like the Beginning

It looked a little like the beginning.

Like you’re ending a chapter and starting another one. Sometimes you can’t tell if it’s the end of the novel and you need to close it, or if it’s leading to the climax of your story.

Like you have to say goodbye to what you knew was familiar, and move on. For better or worse.

Like the sun on the open road, or sudden showers ending in a calm. Or the late trip to your neighbourhood park or the beach on a particularly cold day.

Like the same butterflies in the bottom of your stomach and the feeling or anxiety. And the words exchanged that felt a little off, but also hopeful.

The end of the road.

It looked a little like the beginning.