I've been working on a certain story off and on for twenty years, often with months or even years between looking at the latest draft. Obviously, its content means a great deal to me. Yet I keep needing to alter at least some element. With each step, I feel I'm coming closer to its final version.
Today, as I completed the revision that makes me happy for now, I feel as if this story has become a sort of word ladder puzzle. Do you know the mind challenge? You've given a word -- such as foal -- and you have to change one letter at a time until it becomes another word -- such as mare. (I just made that up, so don't strain hard to solve it. But if you do, let me know.) Usually you have a strictly limited number of steps for the alterations.
I'm glad my writing hasn't been limited to five steps, because I'm well past that. And I'm glad there aren't limits in life, either. I've changed so much in the past years, yet I still feel like me. Whether it's growth, redirection or even decline, I'm grateful for the push and the grace to change organically and with the time needed to absorb the transformation.