Posts I Haven’t Written: Interlude

Okay, I’m saving Zen and the Art of Freaking Out, but I’m going to go ahead and write Interlude right now.  Because that’s what this is — this strange holding pattern, this limbo, this place of not knowing.

I was grumpy about it for too long.  I embraced my grumpiness.  I wore it like a badge – oh, woe is me, we still don’t know.  Then I ran into an old friend and got to tell the story from start to heartbreaking-lack-of-finish, complete with lots of sighs.  She was appropriately sympathetic, murmured something about it being so hard not to know what’s coming next, and then she said it.

“I guess we’re all there, all the time.  We just convince ourselves we’re not.”

Oh yeah.

Okay.

So I started adjusting my attitude.  I listened to my very wise husband, who somehow manages to be calm when I am not, and decided that this isn’t limbo — it’s an interlude.

A temporary amusement or source of entertainment that contrasts with what comes before or after.

It’s really quite lovely, isn’t it?

During this interlude, we eat lunch outside in the sun, in the middle of November, while the baby sleeps in the car.  During this interlude, we take hang out at our favorite coffee shop, logging some serious hours of writing.  During this interlude, we visit playgrounds and bake muffins and lego like it’s our job.

This won’t last forever, and what comes next will be a contrast.  But right now, it’s lovely.