Longing

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woman window

Longing

I’ve done a lot of contemplating this year about my life now that I’m retired. It’s been an undertaking and sometimes felt like I was walking on the edge of a tightrope in a raging storm. So, now I appreciate this kind of cruising you get to do as age creeps up on you. I’ve earned that for sure. Now, I sit back and watch my adult children walk and fall and stumble then dust themselves off again and carry on. I think most of them are at least looking for those speed bumps and slowing down a little while going over them.

Yes, I had exciting and interesting life experiences but not one moment of it did I not secretly yearn for stability. I so wanted the same home, the same man, getting ahead, belonging, it continued to allude me no matter how I tried to sneak up on it. And when I thought I caught it, I would find only dust in my hands. Many tears of despair and dangerous depression would be waiting at the door and I knew of only one way to scare it away and that was to allow anger to open it. It gritted  it’s teeth and breathed fire leveling everything in its path. It took me and my little troop down roads where we “bucked up” to survive. And when the crisis simmered down we began the chase for contentment again.

I bargained, I gave in and almost gave up. I spoke affirmations, I stood my ground but again and again it slipped between the walls of illusion and reality.

I understand now why this had to be for experience has been the lantern I hold for others to see. Still, my face sometimes presses against those windowpanes of homes that have held the same families for generations. And, I wonder what it would have been like even though I did not choose it.

Then, for old times sake, I turn to take one more look of longing when I see a woman’s face pressed against that same windowpane, with that same look of longing, looking out at me.

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