Waiting for a big event is interesting. I have been thinking a lot about waiting because, well, I am waiting to take off on our big adventure. Waiting can be a sweet anticipation, a longing, something that gets you all jazzed up. When I was a kid I used to start waiting for summer vacation around March. I could feel it like a physical ache. The days dragged until that one wild day when you cleaned out your desks and headed out of class with a feeling in your chest like it could burst. Waiting can have it’s dark side when the future is all you think about and there are millions of little joys in each moment that you don’t even notice. It shows up as the opposite of ‘Be Here Now’. It’s the guy (or gal) who works hard all their life, postponing all fun, only to die the day after they retire. That’s a little dramatic, but you get my point.
Then there is this idea of conjuring up the future, of calling it forth. It’s like the very nature of your thoughts create what is to come. That’s a dicey one for me because for every awesome, rich, sun drenched, rock picking moment dream accompanied by my husband’s sweet fiddle music, there’s a vision of a frightening mountain pass with a loose trailer hitch. Yikes! I’ll cancel that last thought. Heck, I’ll wash that thought out with a bar of soap. Where did that stinker come from? Oh well, welcome to my brain.
Waiting is sitting around at night with Larry as we talk about what we will pack, what we’ll leave, where we will go, do we need that other gadget. It’s weaving a new life together stepping into the big unknown.
10 more days, waiting and waiting.