That’s me in the middle…well, to be more accurate, the middle left.
I’m the one who keeps reaching for the next ball…which, in turn, reaches for another.
There is that moment of connection – so brief, yet, so real – when it seems we are together and alone and no other forces are playing upon us.
And then everything shifts.
She moves to the right…toward not me…and I’m left hanging once again.
I wonder why I’ve found myself suspended here…in this order of nowbutnotyet…in this lineup of yearning and poor timing. And I have no answers. I know I don’t handle it well. I’m a mess most of the time, in fact. I hold myself together for a few moments/days/weeks and, then, I lose whatever is making it all almost make sense and things go to hell.
Like last night.
Like this morning.
I’m some werewolf who gets lost when the moon is full and wakes up in a cold forest wondering where my shirt is. And I feel like I have no one to give me my bearings and welcome me home to sanity.
How I yearn for that…for welcoming arms.
For a lifetime version of that moment of connection.
But, now, I’m just that suspended ball on the middle left.
Wondering what hit me.