I stare at my phone again, pressing into the home button with my finger for at least the eighty-seventh time today. I don’t know what I’m hoping to see…some magic message app, like one of those black and white eight-ball fortune tellers we used to ask questions of when we were teenagers, trusting that the answer was the gospel truth.
Yes, I think that’s what I’m wanting tonight.
But my apps all look the same.
Earlier today, the clip-clop of my clogs against the pavement and the dripping sound off the roof reminded me in a fierce way that I had several cups of water earlier that needed to leave my body. I wanted relief.
That relief was only temporary.
The ache I feel is still here.
I’m sure it will eventually fade, or I will just become used to it…my new normal. But I fear that, at some point, my capacity for accepting another new normal will deteriorate so much that I can no longer find it.
I’m hoping the tears will come soon.
“Water cleanses you know, washes away dirt, makes new.” –STP
My mother used to sing this song by Irving Berlin:
“What’ll I do when you are far away
And I am blue, what’ll I do?”
I’m feeling this way now, like a piece of me is far away, out of touch, out of reach…and I have a million or more things on my “to-do list.”
But I just want to sit here and swipe my phone…waiting for some message or answer about what I’m to do.
Tonight I will go to bed and wake again tomorrow and move on…and thankfully the tears have started to fall. Yes, maybe I’ll be new tomorrow.
But tonight, I will just sit here and wait. Wait for the void to fill somehow. And wait for the memories to spread into my heart, to fill the empty place.
And someday I know I will feel whole again.