Dear present moment,
My eyes have been red for the past month — sometimes from dryness of the sun and the heat, sometimes from tears, sometimes from the long hours I have required of my contacts.
I can feel the fatigue ebbing and flowing in my veins. I can see my to do list growing longer, not shorter. There are fewer check marks by that list that I would prefer.
I can feel the sorrow and uncertainty gnawing on my peripheral consciousness. I am worried for the man who was always a source of strength, from my time as a little girl with pig tails to the woman I have become. There has always been more heartbreak mixed in with the adventure than I would like. But this kind is contains a special suppressed panic. I am so scared. I am so scared.
I can feel the the weeks slipping by too quickly. They are like sand in my fingers, pulling from my reach. Disappearing into the anonymity of the sea shore.
I can feel the joy, in the thick of it all. I can feel His whisper, telling me yet again to trust Him.
I wish that I could freeze you, stretch you into something longer. So I could get it all done. So I could dance with him a little longer in the midst of his uncertain future. So I could relish the sunshine and the trees and the mountains more. So I could listen closer for His voice.
If you could pause, just for a moment.