Trapeze artist

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I read back over a journal entry I wrote a few months ago.  It was about a week before my course at university started and The Daughter had just moved into her new student accommodation.  I felt as if I was frozen in mid-air, like a trapeze artist who had let go of one trapeze and was waiting to catch the one swinging towards her.

It occurs to me that most change feels like that.  Nothing to hold on to for what seems like an eternity.   And then, you grab hold of the new bar with both hands and it feels like you never stopped moving at all.

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