Patience

I don’t have it. I don’t even want to have it. I’m a now girl, I like to bring it all, wild-eyed, screeching, in the moments of moments. A fling myself head on into the problem, jump the fence into the neighbor’s pool, bemoan the lost, celebrate the good, drink that bottle of wine, cry in the bathroom if I have to, now kind of girl. I laugh when something is funny. I let my expressions take over because I don’t want to face the limits and control of the rest.

But this waiting game (much of my life pattering by on this waiting game), the acceptance in a form of a packet, rejection in the slimmest of envelopes, the future asks where I am and I can’t answer for the next few weeks, months even. They stagger their yeses. Will I be one?

I am waiting on my life, not to begin, but the chosen part to really start. I have applied myself to apply myself. I am waiting, not patiently, for the answers. I am ready.

No I am not.

Let the rejection letters roll in over the next three weeks and hopefully I will know then, what may come, what August may bring…