Thursday, April 23, 2009

And just as things will be repeated in the future, all things now happening happened a million times before. -Alan Lightman

I am feeling a bit suspended right now. The process of waiting is one I so desperatly try to embrace, but for reasons my mangled personality cannot explain, here I sit rushing through this period, desperate for the next.

There is no perserverance in my soul.
I long to hear the words in Bodhi's head.
I am anxious to see the face of this baby inside.
I need Luke to finish school. I need to graduate.
I am desperate for times when sleep comes easy, my body is not cumbersome, and my mind is not filled. I wonder where the person I used to be went; I don't recognize the person I am becoming, but this is who I am.
This waiting is so lonely, for the desires I am expecting are mine alone. Even the wonder of this time is lonely, for the kicks of my inside son cannot be shared; the perfection of the almost-two-year-old kiss cannot be described.
It is at these lonely, graceless times, that I find myself discovering how timeless I in fact am. These moments of desperation and beauty are not mine. They belong not to me, but to us. This world, this forward time passage has not my interests at heart, but the interests of itself. This wasteful time of wading through moments that cannot pass fast enough were shared by many before me. And the beauty that I grasp to belongs to everyone, excluding anyone boasting in their singularity. I want this waiting to dissipate. I am just passing the time until he speaks, September arrives, we receive our diplomas, we move out of this house. But the time will not pass any faster because of my desires. These are moments that are recreated. So many have been here. So many yet to join me.

So I rush forth, less lonely, remembering all those who proceeded me, and those yet to come.

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