My mother and sister will be here in exactly one week. One week.
The last time I saw my sister was 4 years ago. It’s not so bad. The last time I saw my mother was 8 years ago. It’s been one hell of a long, long ride. I have been waiting for this to come. For the longest time I had no idea when it will finally take place again; so many things were so uncertain. And during those times I consoled myself with only one word : someday.
And it’s never so bad. Time went by so quickly. My son is almost two; it’s hard, truly hard to fathom. I was one irresponsible girl not so long ago. Wild, uncontrollable, emotional, insecure. (Not that I am not anymore, but you see.) Now I have been a mother for almost 2 years. I have been a wife for longer, I have been a lover for much longer. Time always went by so quickly; it never betrayed me.
And yet, when one week is the only time left between me and them, I’ve found myself feeling like the clock is ticking so god-awful slowly. One week feels almost like it’s going to take the entirety of all eternity. I can find things to do; to keep myself occupied, in fact I don’t have to find them, they’re always there. But in everything I do today, I keep finding myself longing for one week to be gone already.
When you know when someday ends, you can’t stop running toward it. You can’t help doing whatever you can to cheat your start. But like much of everything, life always gets ahead of you. Time always gets ahead of you; you see, they have their own rules. You don’t make them.
And all you can do, as always, is play along.