Confession

I've been worshiping at the alter of distraction.

Paying homage to the not-yet-not-now,

my eyes, mind and heart have been narrowly focused

on what-ifs,

maybe, 

just a little bit longer.

All of this drains the life out of a woman,

and goodness slips through the fingers

like so many sands of time

-spent-

 yet unaccounted for.

As I turn so many seemingly fruitful thoughts

over and over, 

I am missing everything most important,

everything I already have.

Pressing forward, 

pressing ahead,

missing the present.

My son grows before my eyes.

Sometimes I hardly recognize him,

and this is what brings me to.

I try to connect, 

pull him close

like I could when he was little.

I whisper funny little phrases in his ear,

kiss the cheek he is turning from me

A thread pulled too tight

is easily broken.

So I pick up one of his favorite books, 

one that he mentioned I might like...

one he shared about a year ago, 

but I did not read.

I did not read it then.

I'm reading it now.

And maybe what will be,

will just be,

and maybe what will be

will do so without my watching,

and waiting,

and pressing ahead.

I guess I can't really know for sure,

but I've got a book to read.

~Maria