People sometimes talk about life in terms of milestones – graduations, birthdays, marriage, babies. When you’re seventeen, you’re waiting for eighteen. College is much less about learning than it is about simply graduating. And when you’re dating, you’re waiting to meet The Right One and settle down. So much waiting. I guess somewhere along the line, I decided that I can’t be an “I’ll be happy when…” person. I’ve learned that I’m not a bigger-picture person. Even if I want to be.
I can’t stomach the idea of looking down the road, trying to divine how it’s all supposed to turn out – trying to figure out the next chapter of my life book. I can’t see that chapter. I can’t touch it and I can’t count on it. I can, though, collect these vignettes and dwell on things like rows of strawberries and extra long hugs and earlobes tugs. I have to. Otherwise, I feel like I might always be waiting for the Next Big Thing to happen. And always being more than a little bit afraid that it won’t.
