Going to be Alright

Patience it’s a word we like to throw around when we seem anxious. My Grandmother used to tell me I had the patience of Job. Especially when going through my divorce and I had to move in with her. To be honest I don’t know if I’m really all that patient. But if you are not too careful time will slip through your fingers like tiny grains of sand. Sometimes I sit here at my desk, my back turned from the picture window to avoid distractions. Still I often hearing our special needs son humming to himself in the room next door.

Staring down at my laptop, the cursor blanking oh so patiently. Thinking about the world and my place in it. Many of us seek a degree of attention. If we didn’t we wouldn’t be posting pictures or telling our boring little stories. It just goes to show the common tread we all carry deep within us. That core desire to commune and tell our story. In a way this blog post isn’t much different than the stories our ancestors told around bonfires, fireplaces, and kitchen tables.

I suppose my point is fairly simple, we all need to practice patience with one another. In our isolation hiding behind keyboards and clever memes, we have lost the art of true conversation. Instead we depend on abbreviated banter and emojis to express our feelings. It’s sad in a way, I remember sitting at my grandmother’s kitchen table, confessing my sins. All the while she’d listen intently and kept the coffee pot going. Like I said, sometimes I am not a patient man, but what I am is a lucky man. Someone blessed to be surrounded by the angels in my life. That speak to me in my dreams and tell me everything’s going to be alright.