I confess that I am the child who suffered of too much expectancy, a small paper cup tearing at its seams from too much absence flowing in. Life exists in circles and spirals, and as much I would like to shed yesterday’s woman for the novelty of tomorrow, the woman that I once was inhabits the woman that I am now. Then perhaps I must revise my statements: is it that I’ve always been in just the right place, as life chooses a circuitous path to deliver me right where I need to be?
But as soon as I can answer that question, I must ultimately live my way into more. Answers shall be most definitely deferred.
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