There’s an age when things are supposed to happen.
At 28, I told myself then, “I want to have kids by 30.”
Now here I am, thirty. Still without kids.
Still without a life partner.
Too bad? Maybe. But maybe, good.
Other women would trade places with me in a heartbeat.
And me? Vice versa. Wanting something just out of reach.
Perhaps a partner would be nice.
Perhaps enjoying this view is better shared with someone.
Perhaps a family will make life more meaningful.
And maybe that’s true. But am I really ready?
Ready to trade this freedom for a life more ‘meaningful’?
And who said my life lacked meaning in the first place?
The grass is always greener on the other side.
Such is the paradox of desire.
I look at my life now. I wouldn’t be here without challenges, without pain.
There’s always some sort of suffering, before the breakthrough.
Maybe this is my waiting season.
Not in a stuck way, but in a becoming way.
A glorious, traveling-the-world-until-I-meet-you kind of way.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
For now, I will keep building. Keep evolving.
Never settling. Always striving.
Because when the time comes, it will happen fast.
And I will never be this version of me again.
So I’ll soak it in.
Embrace her.
One day, I’ll miss her.
