Waiting

I feel as if I'm waiting to start my life. I've got another a month before College starts. I've got my dissertation subject sorted, I know what I'm going to be doing for my degree. I've got my books sat on the bookcase, waiting for me to open them. I've got all these ideas of things to do, research, experiments, poems.

I did the research for the job interview tomorrow. I'm thinking about getting my outfit together, gathering the bits of paper. I'm re-reading the interview guidelines and job description. Now I just have to wait for tomorrow.

My boy is waiting to start high school. We've got his uniform together, he's planned his route to school. He's walking in with a big bunch of his mates. I did offer to take him, but he very politely declined. Which is exactly as it should be. He's waiting to be 13, waiting to become the amazing young man I believe he will become.

Me, I've done my soul searching. Stared for hours into my navel, analysing how I've come to be in this place in time. All the mistakes I've made, with completely the wrong men. Sometimes the right men at the wrong time. Some mistakes I'd make again without a second thought, others I'd pay my weight in gold to erase all evidence in Time.

What am I waiting for? I'm waiting to be welcomed. For a man to look at me and see me for who I am, to accept me. To open his arms just for me. If it means I need to be on my own for awhile, then that's fine. I know what I'm doing. I'm going to get a shit-hot degree, I'm going to get a good job, I'm going to hang out with my really great and sexy friends.