baked homemade

june 17, 2024

i’m in a rush.

it was three years ago and i was driving home from work. the teaching day had been long and hard and on my way i was on the phone with a friend describing the life i have now.

“i want to sleep until i can’t sleep anymore. and i want to play video games, and write omg i just wanna sit down and hear my own thoughts.” and now i’m here three years later and i hear all of my thoughts, are consumed by my thoughts, am being held back by my thoughts.

during the same phone call, i told that friend how my life felt like it was moving so fast, there was always so much to do, an infinite to do list. even the fun things that i was scheduling for myself felt like a drive thru meal that you eat and finish before you can even get home.

“i miss the slow, and intentional. i want to build my life slowly, with purpose and direction and rest stops for me to pause just for the fun of it. i deserve to do it right, to do it deliberately.” and now i’m here with my life moving “too slowly” and i’m rushing. and rushing for all the wrong reasons. rushing because i feel as if i have something to prove. rushing because i sit and judge the way my life looks right now. rushing because everyday i wake up and choose sadness over joy because sadness has been more consistent.

and these days i don’t know what to write, i don’t remember how to write. how to put words together in a way that is truthful to the experiences i’m having and still seduces the attention of my reader.

i-i’m trying to remember. that this is what I manifested, what I asked for. and not in a way that is punishing but in a way where I can rejoice and celebrate. that this time in my life is cute and beautiful and unfolding in the most exquisite unique way and - my dear Makhela, please do not make it into something that it is not. do not taint this extraordinary manifestation with “should’s” and “not fast enough’s.”

this is the slow cooked method, this is the homemade baked bread, this is the foundation for the beautiful story of your life. throw your hands high above your head, reach your head outside the car window, and let the sun kiss your skin. where you are is perfect, and you are perfect just for being here.

.m