Closer.

It is Sunday night, and those in this house have gone to their rooms early, heavy and bent under the news we received only on Friday. It was not what we hoped to hear, and time will tell its story. I've retired somewhat early myself, only to find that I am not tired, and I have nothing put together to wear tomorrow. I pulled out a black suit, eyed the black patent leather heels, and, reminded that it is now November, figured then that a pair of black stockings would be appropriate as well. And while I was at it, why not accessorize with a black scarf? It might match my dark mood right now.

It was then that I realized that pulling out The Black Suit means I have officially hit fashion rock bottom. Not that it looks bad, mind you- it fits me well and is certainly appropriate for my office. It's just that once I've decided that it will suffice, I know that I need to get to the root of the problem; namely, fix this that which is so absent of color inside me right now. So I am writing and reading and pretty much stretched out in my hammock, trying desperately to sort through the thousand pieces that I find still manage to beat even while I sleep.

I wonder sometimes at God's timing. And I wonder at the complexity of two wills, two ideas, two different paths. Does God bless one, and not another? What if blessings are actually pain, and what would happen if we could look back at all the heartache and from there choose what we are to do? Would I do the right thing? If I knew that going out on a limb, one more time, would instead hand me the fruit that stings and is not sweet, would I climb the tree anyways? The truth is I've always been somewhat content to let others climb the trees; I preferred to watch and then have lemonade waiting for everyone once they came down, content to feel the grass under my feet. I guess I hoped there would be someone else who liked the grass and the yard and the bugs and was content to be there with me, too.

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Co-posted to www.theblondephilosophy.blogspot.com