A letter from the bus that found me again this week

1… 2… 3.

Hey you,
This week’s note isn’t fresh from today or yesterday or the weekend.
It’s something I found again, written on a bus ride to work in February 2023, when I was feeling a little lost, a little hopeful, and somewhere in between.

To be honest, my mind’s been a bit tangled lately. Tired, tender, and just... too much.
And in the midst of all that, I stumbled on this note. Quietly tucked away in my phone.
Reading it again felt like someone holding my hand, past me reminding present me that we’ve been here before… and we made it through.

So, today’s letter is from another time.
But maybe it’s one of those pieces that grows with you.

---

Gentle Courage: The Push
Written on the bus, Feb 3, 2023

I’ve always been a dreamer.
And lately…I'd like to believe, a doer too.

There are so many things I want to learn. To try. To become.
And in my mind, I already have.
I’ve imagined myself learning a new language, starting a side project, dancing more freely, finally writing that story, saying yes to things that scare me...
I’ve felt the high of it, the afterglow, the little sparkle of “yes, I did this.”
It feels like magic.
So wholesome.

And yet... I haven’t done them. Not really.

Sometimes I wonder…
What if I really did?
What would it feel like to hold that version of myself, real and breathing and proud?

But here’s the truth:
I get scared.
My heart races at the thought of taking that first actual step.
Not lazy. Just afraid.

I plan. I set timelines. I promise myself: This time I’ll do it right.
But often, I don’t.
And then comes the ache…
That quiet sadness of a dream left hanging.
Like a well inside me, deep and echoing with unfinished things.

Maybe all I need is a push.
One small push.
That gentle courage.
To jump.
To try.
To begin.

But who’s going to do that for me?
Should I wait?
Look for a mentor?
A sign?
An answer?

Or maybe…

Maybe I just count to three.
Breathe.
And leap.

1…2…3.

---

I wrote this while sitting by the window of a Cityflo bus.
The world outside kept moving, and something in me moved too.

Two years later, this note came back to me when I needed it most.
And I realized: we don’t always grow by giant leaps.
We are always in the process of becoming.
Sometimes, we grow by telling ourselves the truth.
By putting it down in words. By pausing. And then, gently beginning again.

Wherever you are in your own 1…2…3, I’m cheering for you.

With Love,
Madhura

If this note sat well with you,