a love letter to the beginning of the end

Dear beginning of the end,

How do we know when we are at the beginning of an end?  Of a phase, of a relationship, of a story, of a life?  There is a last time for everything, though we rarely know this at the time.  Perhaps the knowing is not of consequence.  Perhaps it is only the quality of the moment that matters. 

Today I wonder:  Is this the beginning of the end of my romance?  Is this the beginning of the end of my youthful middle age?  It is the beginning of the end of my love of the dancehalls?  Is this the beginning of the end of my euphoric freedom?

‘Beginning of the end’ sounds too fatal, so much like a loss.  What about ‘the end of the beginning’ instead, which sounds more like a new phase, a transition or an evolution?

“Ours is a tale of endurance…The word endurance sounds as though it means ‘to continue without cessation’ and while this is an occasional part of the tasks, endurance also means ‘to make robust, to strengthen’ and this is the principle thrust of our tale and the generative feature of a woman’s psychic life.  We do not go on just to go on.  Endurance means we are making something substantial.”  (Women Who Run with the Wolves)

Perhaps what I am feeling is the beginning of the end of a breaking-out phase and the beginning of the beginning of a creative, generative time.  From here, I will decide the next steps; I will choose the beginnings and, maybe even the endings.