The pain and joy of high expectation

Call it idealism or simply high hopes, there are those of us that may have our head stretched all the way up to the clouds. I listen to and follow the voice that whispers, "Come up here." It's an alluring suggestion.

The upward movement of my mind and its ideas has caused such hope and anticipation for myself and those I share life with. So many circumstances where the possibility is seen and paddled toward through the thick muck from which we make our meaning.  

Aren't we complex enough humans to feel this and dwell in that constant flow and interchange? I believe it in the secret of the morning, the holding dear of sunlight in the afternoon. I feel that light. And in the same day I feel the dark of the evening, even in the same moment.

As I write this letter to myself and you, in the back of the Kroger parking lot, I remind myself that it's okay to be with the wild wind inside of me. Sure, I must stand strong and I long for life to be full and perfect. But I must not be afraid of myself and my inexplicable ability to be in two places at once.

I cherish each joyful dance, each pensive inhale of my cigarette, the dull loneliness of falling asleep alone and the deep pain of losing someone.

Dedicated to my beloved Paige Dora Bailey Goslin

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