Story
In the Meantime Previous Story
Even standing side by side, we can miss each other.
I scan the scribbled message on the paper plate.
“Working late. Don’t hold dinner. See you later.”
How many hurried messages have we shared? Hundreds. One of us always seems to be needed elsewhere. Oh, well. Tomorrow.
Perhaps our paths will cross tomorrow. Perhaps we’ll have “quality time.” Perhaps we’ll take a few moments to sit quietly and talk about important things, our hopes, dreams, intentions, fears, and insecurities, the stuff that defines a life. I miss those times. They were the norm before life got so busy.
I pick up my briefcase and head out the door. Driving to work, I feel our lost time together. I am alone in the direction I have chosen.
Why do we go on and on in this way? We act as if there were endless somedays. But when is someday? Why do we cling to busy-ness and pay the price of longing, loneliness, the pressing need to be together? We behave as if there were infinite time, endless forevers to make up for our lost connection. Well . . . we have good intentions.
I dial the cell phone as I drive. She answers.
“How about lunch?”
She sighs, “Great. I’ll be waiting for you.”
You may also want to visit our other websites:
The Journey - The Ride of a Lifetime
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
“Working late. Don’t hold dinner. See you later.”
How many hurried messages have we shared? Hundreds. One of us always seems to be needed elsewhere. Oh, well. Tomorrow.
Waiting was needed
Perhaps our paths will cross tomorrow. Perhaps we’ll have “quality time.” Perhaps we’ll take a few moments to sit quietly and talk about important things, our hopes, dreams, intentions, fears, and insecurities, the stuff that defines a life. I miss those times. They were the norm before life got so busy.
I pick up my briefcase and head out the door. Driving to work, I feel our lost time together. I am alone in the direction I have chosen.
Why do we go on and on in this way? We act as if there were endless somedays. But when is someday? Why do we cling to busy-ness and pay the price of longing, loneliness, the pressing need to be together? We behave as if there were infinite time, endless forevers to make up for our lost connection. Well . . . we have good intentions.
I dial the cell phone as I drive. She answers.
“How about lunch?”
She sighs, “Great. I’ll be waiting for you.”
You may also want to visit our other websites:
The Journey - The Ride of a Lifetime
Uncommon Promise Video Channel
Under the Tuscan Thumb Blog
The UP Side Lowdown by Cheryl
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