Time

Everyone tells me I'm young. I have time. And I suppose I am.

But then why do I feel as if it is slipping away from me?

I am incredibly lucky to live the life I do. I have a wonderful, supportive family. I have a stable job and a great degree. I have good friends. And although I'd like more, I definitely value what I have. Extremely. So why do some days I feel like I'm so derailed?

I'd like to feel life the sands if time aren't sliding through my hourglass. I can't tell how fast it's falling or how much sand is left. All I can tell is that it continues to fall. Burying me under a mountain of wasted days.

I'm ready for my life to start.

My grandma said to me sweetly, "men are like buses. If you miss one, there's another one coming."

She then turned to my grandpa and told him he was the second bus. Inwardly my face fell.

I want to be someone's second bus.

I want to shower my child with kisses like my aunt did while she held my cousin on the couch.

I want to share my life, and start living it the way I always wanted. Looking out into the great wide ocean. Hearing the crash of the waves in every heartbeat. Breathing the tang of salt in every breath.

I want for someone to remember that obscure band I listen to or that I like those really terrible puffy cheetos even though I hate when they get stuck in my teeth.

I wish I had this life thing figured out.