We're just a couple days away from a different world. Things are changing in front of us, things that were put into motion more than a year ago, and all we can do at this point is to sit back and hope for the best. Our prayers may not matter, but we say them anyway. No matter what happens we can't pretend it won't rock our worlds. I don't know if I'm ready for it, and yet I can't wait for it happen. It's an odd thing. It's just another day in my life, but I have no idea what it will be like.
We hear all the time about preparation. We watch shows breaking down how it's all supposed to work. We listen to podcasts and wonder if the hosts are crackpots, prophets or something in between. Ah, who am I kidding, they're always on one side of the spectrum or the other. Never the middle. The middle is a valley where ratings go to die. I asked my wife tonight who she was listening to on the news talk radio and her response was perfect, "the angry guy". We listen anyway, learn nothing, and hope for the best.
We know that folks from our past, family even, will be in town soon. There's a lot of love there. A lot of pain too. But we're getting together for the right reasons. We're getting together to celebrate this new thing that's just around the corner. None of us know how it'll impact us, whether decisions made will be full of joy or tears, or both. And the fear, we always carry with us the fear. So what does that mean? Can we talk about the fear? No, not yet. Wait til after.
After. When we're exhausted. When all the things we've been dreaming about finally start happening. When the tears and sweat have been wiped away by loved ones. When a cramped, too hard chair seems like an oasis to disappear in for a while. That's when we'll deal with the fear, deal with all of the unnecessary things that we've paced the floor thinking about for the past however many months. It'll be good. Like Christmas morning for a 10 year old.
I should probably clarify here...my wife is pregnant with our first child. A girl by all accounts. She's due this week. I'm terrified and excited and can't wait to count all the toes and fingers and listen to her cry and hold her in my hands. I'm just thankful that there's a football game on to distract me from all the anxiousness and waiting. The game doesn't really matter, but I'll pretend it does just so I can make believe one last time that I don't have a lot of responsibility hovering squarely over my shoulders.
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