Quietly

I've been up for awhile now. I've taken my morning meds, been to the coffee shop, finished reading a book, flirted with the barista, cleaned out my computer and the socks strewn about my floor.

Today I want to go down to the water. On the coast there are twenty to twenty five foot waves coming in and I wish I could see them. But my car broke down a few years ago and I don't have one now. So the river here in town will have to suffice. I would say I'd give anything to see the waves today but that isn't true. I mean who would I give anything to? And would I really give anything?

I can hear my upstairs neighbors walking around. The floor boards squeak with their every step. Last night I heard them making love by the way the boards moved slow, and then rhythmically and then all at once faster and faster. What sold me on renting this place was the soundproof walls and ceilings. No one mentioned floorboards.

I wonder sometimes if I'll ever fall in love. If I'm actually available for that. I don't know though, I tend to lose myself inside of even my close friendships. And then I find out that I was infatuated with my close friends and those relationships for awhile. But short lived passion seems to be my calling card.

The one constant in my life is writing and God. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of questions about writing and God, but at least I know I can still ask them and remember who I am. I suppose if writing were an entity, a living breathing person I'd fall in love with its form too. The funny thing is, I know God is alive, but I haven't fallen in love yet. Maybe because I'm too much me around him.

Yep, today I'm going to get on the streetcar, I'm going to walk in the rain, the rain that can't seem to decide if it wants to come in sideways, be fat and splash, or just fall; and go down to the water.

Look for waves of my own.