With Bated Breath

I had funky dreams this morning, maybe because it was raining outside. I dreamed that Justin and I went to Disneyland and when we finally got there the curtains of our hotel room had a big hole in them so anyone could look in and see what we were doing. There were holes in the walls too so people could walk through the holes and into the room if they felt like it or not, and even though J was with me, he kept becoming out of my reach. He’d be there one moment and gone the next.

Now that I’m awake I’m wearing my robe I got for Christmas and listening to the laundry spin in the dryer and the purrs of the kitty next to my head. I’m absorbed by the blue light of my computer screen and worried about simple things like time and money and how there is never enough of either.

By the end of December we waited with bated breath for the new year to start, and when we did, I think a lot of us didn’t plan on it being an extension of December, but for some of us, that’s what it has been. Were still the same people we were, and we still laugh at the same jokes. We might hang out at new places, or browse new bookstores, but were still who we were.

When I look at myself, I want to see who God sees. I don’t want to see an optician or Justin’s wife or a traveling gypsy. I don’t want to see Cynthia’s daughter. I don’t want to see Charlie’s daughter.

I want to see me.

I’m getting married in June and my desire to be a mommy is so strong it’s beginning to break my iron-like heart but man,

I want to see me.


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