So much of my twenties feels a lot like the phrase “hurry up and wait”. Constantly rushing to an unknown place, but still somehow always feeling behind. It is hard to put into words how it feels to have too much time and yet not enough. Despite my difficulties to articulate, I know that at least one other person out there will understand what I mean. I am not entirely sure of where I am going, or if I even want to arrive in any one particular place. But I am learning to be patient and comfortable with not knowing.
I like clean, white sheets & a freshly made bed.
I like the sound of squeaky garage steps when my father gets home from work.
I like the feeling of the cold sand on a cloudy day,
& a grey raging ocean.
I like the silence in between songs when I’m driving in my car,
& sleeping with the windows open in the springtime.
I like how big the moon can be when it first rises.
& how small it is when I’m smoking on the stoop.
I have learned to give attention to the little things;
The in–betweens of this life.
& as I wait for the big things to take place,
I find the moments of peace here,
hidden within the hurry of the day,
buried under the weight of the waiting.
Today, I feel the sun on my face while I walk into work.
There is a life to be lived in the waiting.
e.m.c.
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