Where's the time go, for that matter? Months go by, life goes on, changes. Go from lost to found, and rub my eyes in wonder at the findings. Find myself at long last with a coatrack, Christmas come true, things to hang in places where they belong.
Poor taste or what right there? But born to be what is, we follow paths that find our feet, not the other way around. Sitting by the door now, the elusive goal. And a tree, pagan symbol of born-again whatnot, happy birthday, check out that gift horse's mouth.
Like what you see? I do. Appreciate every last single split second and don't get it, really, when someone appreciates my patience on a day of chaotic joy. How hard is it to sit and wait? Difficulty in biding one's time? ... bide ... usually bided, to wait for...to put up with... tolerate. What else, but to tolerate the time? Endure. Seems once I was taught that that was a tenet of the Gospel... Endurance? Perseverance? In spite of odds and opposition, wait for a place to hang a sweater and a coat. Even a brand new scarf, the first I've ever had (that I recall), fresh at age 30.
Previous | Next