waiting

Waiting is hard. Liminal spaces creep up with an itch that tries to convince me it’s defining me and my life, but I remind myself only I define me, and my life is defined by what I do with the time given to me and by how poured full of love it is. The itch won’t last forever. Waiting is hard, but it offers the generous gifts of patience and resilience. In the middle of the wait, there’s still joy and gratitude. I am grateful for all the good. I am joyful for love, connection, soft touches, good talks across dark patios on summer nights, the feeling of sharing your soul and your truest stories and trusting the ones receiving it, knowing they see you and love you well. I am grateful to see growth in myself and all I am building — how far I’ve come. I’m grateful for the season of summer.