“What a week!”, our heroine exclaims early Tuesday morning.
I don’t bother to point out that Tuesday will never be the end of any week. Tuesday can sometimes be a start. It can, maybe, be the beginning of a week, after a public holiday, but not ever is it anywhere close to the end of a week.
You do this for people you love, you hold your thought. You listen and wait for the words to unfold.
“So many endings and beginnings!”
Everything said with an exclamation at the end.
I wait to hear some more.
“It’s all so exciting! And a little sad!”
I wait again. Anything I have to say can wait too.
“I can’t wait for it to begin!”
I hesitate. And then wait some more. I love a good story, a happy beginning, the excitement and newness of it all. So I remain, waiting.
And I’m thinking, while waiting, happy endings are never a guarantee my love. No life can be assured of the grand finale we dream of before it occurs.
Happy beginnings? Well, who wouldn’t want to start any adventure, or any day, like that?
I wait. And I listen.