Between the Almost and the Yes
In my head, I always thought this moment would feel like confetti falling from the sky. Like the end of a movie, lights flashing, people cheering, the soundtrack swelling. I pictured myself breathing out relief, finally able to say, “I did it.”
But the truth is, it doesn’t feel like that at all. It feels like standing at the edge of a cliff with the wind roaring in my ears, holding my breath as I wait for the ground to steady.
Lease signing is set for 10/15. Between now and then, three things need to line up: the storefront, the funding, and the town. Three thresholds. Three gates.
One is already a yes, the storefront is mine to step into. Two remain: the town and the funding. Both equally weighted. Both hanging in that space of almost but not yet.
I’ve read the bylaws and table of use more times than I can admit (my obsession with research is a whole thing), and I know this project is allowed by right. But still, I need that confirming answer from the town in black and white before I can exhale.
The funding is very close to a yes, so close I can feel it humming in my chest. But until that last 1% tips over to 100%, I will hold my breath.
This is the razor’s edge: my dream in my hands and out of them at the same time. I can feel it, my fingers wrapping around it as the pieces fall into place. But just as quickly, I can feel it slipping, the possibility of watching it scatter and starting back at ground zero. It is fucking scary.
And yet, these are the moments that show me how far I’ve come. Four and a half years ago, I couldn’t even picture confetti. On January 31, 2021, all I could picture was surviving. On February 1, 2021, I woke up to my first day of sobriety, unsure if joy would ever return, unsure if life could feel full again.
Although I had never walked that path before, I knew there was a mountain in front of me. I knew it would be hard, but I didn’t know how hard until I started climbing. Early sobriety demanded everything from me, one day at a time. And this moment, this “yes” I’m waiting for, feels similar. I know the mountain ahead is steep. I know the climb will test me in ways I cannot yet imagine. But I also know that one step, one day at a time, is enough to carry me forward.
The unhealed version of me would have buried her head in the sand months ago. She wouldn’t have made it here. But here I stand, rooted and steady, even as every part of me just wants to scream. Because I’ve learned I cannot manipulate or control the outcome. I’ve had to surrender. Down to my partner’s decision. Down to timing. Down to the town’s approval. I’ve had to say: either way this goes, I accept it, whether I like it or not. And still, what has been meant to be has carried me this far.
So I remind myself: if this is the storefront, then this will be the storefront.
This is the truth: being a leader, forging a path that hasn’t been walked before, is not supposed to be easy. But I know how meaningful this is. I know the people I am meant to help. And that is what will keep me putting one foot in front of the other.
Because if I can do this, it shows them, it shows you, that you can do anything.
This “yes” is not a finish line, it’s a threshold. It’s the chance to take every journal page, every sketch, every sleepless night, every whispered prayer, and turn it into something that can stand, breathe, and welcome others in.
And I don’t want to quote Eminem or anything… but the words keep echoing in my head:
“If you had one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted
In one moment
Would you capture it, or just let it slip?”
This is that one shot. That one opportunity. And unlike the girl I used to be, this time I’m capturing it. I’m not letting it slip.
The music is swelling, the storyteller soundtrack is playing, and for the first time, I know this isn’t a closing scene, it’s the opening chapter of something larger than me.
—Kelley