On.

Suddenly, you are given long moments of time to yourself, slow silences in large houses, the easy life of a small town family. You revel in the space, metaphorical and otherwise, but float on top of the existence, like it is not yours. 

It is not yours. 

You love these people like family you chose, their stories sit in your very bones, and you want all these treasures for them. But you do not want them for you. The insight is surprising, somehow, you examine them from the outside with the curiosity of a toddler, who hasn't yet discovered bittersweetness. You can want this for them and not for you. 

You can be happy with what you have. 

Recovery swims in your lungs, rolls like waves across your muscles and softens your spine, you sleep in peace and wake happy, it is such a novel concept that you want to ask people if this is how it feels. You asked for the road and when it was not quite given to you, you went out to find it. You're on the on-ramp now, you're on the right track now. 

All you have to do
is go on.