As I sit here this night I have realized that I have spent
much my adult life waiting.
Waiting to have that picture-perfect family.
Waiting for that first marriage to steady from my then
husband’s alcoholism; from the chaos that ensured.
Waiting after the first year of a second marriage, to get out
of that tireless and toxic relationship.
Waiting to move to Portugal: to my home.
Waiting has been filled with many things: raising and loving
an only child; losing my parents (one to leukemia and one to dementia).
Waiting to ultimately find myself.
Waiting has at times been tedious, yet at the same time
still, depending on the day.
We all wait, I suppose, for different things. Hopefully though, in the end, those still periods will be worth the wait.
