Through The Tunnel

The entrance to the tunnel tells me that we are almost home. I feel a mixture of relief (who wouldn't be relieved after a day of driving?) and dread (because with home comes the work and responsibility of home). But the tunnel is quick, and before I know it, we are on the other side, for better, for worse, for now.

There can be a great many tunnels in our lives, some of which feel not nearly as quick as this one on this day. We enter, hopeful about our ability to reach the other end. We brave the darkness, the unknown, the trapped feeling. Sometimes, our time in the tunnel feels endless--will we get through the experiences that challenge us, frighten us, make us sad? Sometimes, though we know there must be light at the other end, it feels as though it will take forever to escape the darkness and reach that light. Once in a while, if we take a deep breath, we manage to speed right through. And once in a while, we find ourselves stuck for longer than we'd care to admit.

The problem is, just as I have to brave a tunnel (ok, I can do a bridge, but still) to get me home to New York City, we all have to get through the tunnels sometimes to get through our lives. We have to make it through the tunnel of loneliness to find companionship. We have to make it through the tunnel of despair to find our way to hope. We have to make it through the tunnel of failure to see the light of success. And we have to make it through the tunnel of fear to feel the strength of confidence. Staying in the tunnel, whether it's the one between New Jersey and New York or the one in our heads, is not an option. And that, I suppose, is how we know we can survive the tunnels. We will make it through to the light on the other side because, well, we have to.

The tunnel is over and we are home. Which doesn't mean I'm not facing plenty more tunnels. But, one way or the other, I intend to come out on the other side.