Patience.

 

What am I doing?

It’s the same question I keep coming back to, day after day, week after week, month after month.

Why am I putting 8 hours a day in to something that kills my soul slowly every day?  How much do I wish I was somewhere else from 7:30 until 4:00 from Monday until Friday?  What am I accomplishing?

I’d leave in a heartbeat.  But honestly, I don’t know where to go. 

But.  At least when the work day is done, I have a happy home to come home to.  I called my mom today and asked if she had looked at our ‘family portraits’  -- a series of pictures my roommate/bestie took on Sunday in our matching vests.  I went on to talk about our home-strung popcorn strings, hand-made angel and homemade scuffles.  My mom knows my professional life makes my heart sad, but she said to me, Brenna, we’re going to have to come see this home of yours, things are working out better here, every story is happy now.  And really, they are.  I’m glad I found an old friend who re-became new friends. 

Today someone was talking with Nik and I said, why doesn’t she ask me that too? (instead of just asking her), NIk said, Brenna.  she doesn’t know you anymore.  But, I replied, no one does.  She told me last year, she didn’t really either, but she figured that if our bff pact held true, it’d be smooth sailing.  See, I always said that no matter when, no matter where – us two could leave for years and when we reunited, we could pick up just where we left off.  And we did. And it’s awesome.

But.

I’ve got to grow some patience while life decides where to take me.

(because I really want adventure, or to kiss baby heads in China, or baby heads at my nephew’s house, or just be excited to wake up and live.)