I long for respite. For peace.
To see breathtaking places and fly away from here.
I want to see the world. It calls to me.
There is so much to be tried, accomplished, felt. I yearn for it all, a big bite of the human experience – that thing which is only given once.
And yet it can be found here too. Couldn’t it?
The giggles. The playfulness. Yes, even the tears. The pain that makes us hold tighter to the intimate moments. Finding it all precious.
Growing and changing. Shedding the old skin, what I used to (want to) be.
For them.
I often wonder what treasures could be found in that far away place I saw once so long ago.
I didn’t know what I was seeing then. I know it now. I’ve contemplated it for years, pondered and mulled over deeper things than I knew back then. Time has nurtured that understanding and desire.
I would savor it now. If I could.
There is so much of life to explore outside of these four walls. So much that still needs discovering.
But little voices call, holding me back.
Little faces need wiping. Little hands need holding.
Little mouths need sweet kisses goodnight.
I imagine the stories I could write. They live inside of me, clawing. Writhing.
Could I create them if there were quiet here? If there were time?
I long for greatness. Not for myself, but in the things I accomplish. To see results. To know that my working hands did what they set out to do, and did it well.
Greatness in smallness, I suppose.
And yet it’s here, isn’t it?
The smallest of small.
It’s here.
The greatest of great.
Maybe one day I will go there, to that other place.
I’ll see that treasure. I’ll write that story.
I’ll do all the things I’ve longed to do for so long.
But anything else I accomplish, anything else I succeed at, will all be for naught if I fail at this one thing I've been given.
