In Which I Refuse to Waste Today on Tomorrow

I will not worry about it.

I will stop stalking Craig in five different cities just to read through a list of maybe rentals on maybe streets in maybe towns, that all lie across the maybe bridge. The one we haven't crossed yet.

I will stop looking at the expiration date on the sour cream at the store and think, wow, by this date, we might know where we're going. (I will still look at the expiration date. Because that's just good grocery shopping).

I will stop talking in maybes, crossing bridges months away, keeping every household item on a watch list as to whether or not we'll take it with us if we move.

I will stop. I will be still. I will be here. And for goodness sake, I will stop fluttering around like it even matters where I will be next year. Tomorrow has enough trouble, enough boxes, enough square footage of its own.

I will not squander March on May, or throw away April in search of June. No. No. No.

I will not be THAT camper, the one who cries like a baby after three days because there are only two days left, because she doesn't want camp to end, because she doesn't want to go home yet. She didn't HAVE to go home yet. She wasted those two days crying about it.

No. No. No. Not me.

I will tell my crybaby self to knock it off. I will call my friends on a sunny afternoon to do the cliff walk. I will be glad nothing is forever. I will embrace the dynamics of ebb and flow, of fast and slow, of packing and unpacking, of contracting and expanding, of turning in and branching out. I will treasure it all and call it real life.

I will not waste today on tomorrow.




Not me.

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