It's squirmy and writhing in the pit of my stomach.  It slithers in the back of my head.  It wraps around my heart and squeezes ever so slowly.  

I'm afraid.

I'm afraid of the black hole I sense looming before me.  I can't even see it yet, but I know that it's lurking, just around a few bends in the road.  My steps are reluctant and weighted.  I want each day to be as long as it can, to turn the hourglass back.

I'm trusting.

In spite of my fear, I want to go on.  I know what's ahead will be good, though not easy.  I might need even more strength than it takes for me to keep my feet on the path right now.  I feel hands holding me and lifting me.  I will keep holding those hands and they will not let go.