The air tastes of change. It’s not the falling leaves or a chillier breeze that make me listen up and put my nose into the cold morning air – there’s something else lingering outside, waiting to reveal itself.
I can’t quite put my finger on it. It reminds me a lot of the feeling I had last summer, when an array of impending events somehow seemed stuck at the starting line. At the end of summer, after a long time of waiting, we finally sold our house, we moved back west, my husband’s company bought another company… and it happened all at once. Good things come to those who wait, they say.
I am sitting on a bucket full of ideas. Ideas for my book, ideas for my blog, ideas to put my skills to good use. But it’s all not quite there yet, I feel as if I was only scratching at the surface. I am missing the tools to dig deeper – when digging deeper is all that is required at the moment.
There are glimpses of the old ‘us’ popping up. ‘Us’ going out for grown-up dinners in grown-up restaurants. ‘Us’ spending time just the two of ‘us’. ‘Us’ in hotels, breakfast in bed, ruffled sheets and all that stuff. This one feels like scratching at the surface from the other side – as if we had been living under a thin layer of ice, close beneath the surface, yet unable to break through. We have just about managed to crack the ice to pop up for greedy gulps of oxygen, before diving back down into the deep waters of parenthood. Maybe knowing (hoping?), at the back of our heads, that the world on the other side of the ice will be, once again, out of reach for a while.
Good things come to those who wait, they say. But can I wait again?
Pictures taken randomly during a night sans bebe at the Sanderson Hotel.