I once spoke to this woman with an uneven temper. She grew up in poverty and always looked for an escape. She married young, had children at 16 and settled down to live her life. She divorced, moved around a lot, and even when she found herself sleeping at McDonalds and eating at soup kitchens with her children, she always a found a reason to keep her head held high. She was passionate, and free-spirited, loud, lively, and full of happiness.
As she got older, things started looking up. She married a fairly wealthy man, and didn’t have to work to maintain herself. Her 2 boys were grown and she experienced a life of travelling and excitement. When her husband died and left her with nothing, but debt and unsettled financial matters, she had to return to the work force. She had no college degree, no high school diploma, and very little mastery of the English language. Day after day she would work in the sun and come home only to get dressed and go out dancing. She has lived and she has never waited on anything or anyone to save her.
Not a day goes by when I don’t find someone waiting for something. Anything. A sign, a phone call, an email, an answer… Waiting for silence, for noise, for brilliance, for something to do…
Waiting for love, for freedom, for life, for death…
What exactly are we waiting for?
All of these moments form a timeline of our lives. When someone asks me the story of my life, I want to tell them simply that I lived. I lived without self-pity, with no regrets, and I never waited for someone, or something, to complete me.
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