I love those waves.
Not so much when I'm standing at the bus stop, and have to jump out of the way to avoid them.
But when I'm sitting comfortably at my computer, with a window between me and the cold rain, I enjoy every one.
The construction is still happening next door to me.
When the dump trucks are working, it is like huge claps of thunder, and the whole room shakes.
There is a building standing where only a month ago there was none.
Life moves forward.
I want to pretend that life is a simple as a set of Legos and a trip to the beach. But that is not the kind of construction and waves that come when you are an adult.
Everything that happens now has a greater permanence than you can imagine when you are seven years old.
It isn't easy to start over. And it isn't easy to jump out of the way when unexpected things come at you.
Life is a lot like street waves and construction.
Fast. Cold. Full of dirt. Loud. Uncertain. Strong and weak.
I might have spoken strong words about foundations and building new things when I first watched that construction through the safety of my window, but I am not ready to dig in the dirt to build anything.
I want to sit on the other side of a safe window, and appreciate the beauty of life, without risking the splash that comes with actually living in it.
I want everything to slow down and speed up. I know that doesn't make sense. But what I mean is, I want the fast things to be slow and the slow things to pass quickly.
And I want a lot of things that aren't realistic.
I am tired of loss.
And all the pain that comes from stepping out from behind my safe window.
And the fact that the phone rings, and the computer lets the world in, and people die, and my window doesn't even begin to protect me from the pain of the world outside.
Linking up with Shell at Things I Can't Say for Pour Your Heart Out.