this morning

So I’m sitting here pondering the fact that this morning I woke up and sent a man off to his daily drudgery with a kiss. On one hand I’m feeling a little cliche, and on the other, I’m more than a tad surprised at where my life has gone. Had you asked me two years ago where I’d be now, this would not have been my reply.

Yesterday we talked about a lot of things and it got me to thinking about truths: like what happens when I leave. You can’t predict life. I’d like to say, “Well, we love each other and so everything’s going to be alright.” But that’s just not so. It would be wonderful, but life is not wonderful most of the time. Focusing on some stupid, hypothetical future doesn’t help anyone either, so I’m not doing that (too much)…

Rather, I’m just sitting, in a little blue house with a white picket fence and smell of roses in the yard, contemplating the views from where I’m at. Remembering that there was a time, when I was in between worlds and selves, and I kept trying to write this story. I didn’t know how it would go, but I knew it was supposed to start:

“Once there was a girl, and she lived in a lovely little house behind a white picket fence….”