It’s 3am. Sleep interrupted by a clamoring in the kitchen. My mind soon soothed realizing it’s only my son coming home from work. I bury back into the covers to rest, but for hours then I lie there in the space in between. The transitory phase...not really asleep nor awake.
So to in life. At times I long to be there, but I am here. Other times I think maybe to stay here, but I am headed there. Pushing or pulling to move forward or go back. That’s me. Smack in the middle of the in between.