I stare out the window, the same old scene I see every day. A garden, a church, a pecan tree. Each in their own way a bit timeless, each in their own way changing. I’m working from the laptop today my word software is easier to work from the laptop. But I do miss the more causal feel of my phone app. Life feels so temporary sometimes, maybe it’s because my life isn’t so much doing as being.
I guess I could just hoe the grass out of the turnips or rake around the back porch. Instead here I sit holding my hands in prayer and punching these keys. What messages am I sending? What is my purpose? My focus? I always dreamed of a life of speaking, yet here I sit telling stories to no one.
Partially fixed in this purgatory, doing what my heart tells me to do. Living out dreams I only once imagined. Writing words that have touched a few. But is it fulfilling enough? Am I doing all that I could? Too many questions for a mind, it’s time to clear out the thoughts. Allowing myself to breathe, to hone my skills, to tell my tale. For no matter what we do, isn’t worth it if the passion doesn't shine through.