Angie of Still Life with Circles has started another “Right Where I Am.” You can read about the project on her blog.
Impatience swells in me. When will my period come? When will school let out? When will I be pregnant again? When will I get the tattoo? Will when my life start?
As if someone has pressed the pause button and the display is blinking. Only the reel keeps turning and it ends up I am living—a life that is eerily familiar to what my own once was. I have stepped through a mirror and walked into an almost identical house but for the slant of light and an immense echoing emptiness. Everything is still in its place, but I walk by and touch the furniture as if I don’t know this place I inhabit.
Everything is still and heavy here. The slide of the dining room chair under my weight. The rough corduroy of the couch. My heart is made of the same glazed yellow pine as our cool, hard floors.
Impatience makes the clock tick slower. I know this but still I tap my foot, pick at my cuticles, pace from room to room. Screw this living-in-the-moment crap, I tell A when I come home. One-day-at-a-time is too hard. I don’t like this day. I don’t like this moment. I am living for later.
That’s okay, I tell myself. That has to be okay. They say anything is okay, any feeling, any manifestation of grief. Accept where you are.
Where I am: holding my breath.
It’s okay to hold my breath. To watch the display blinking, blinking. To wait for the future.
© Burning Eye