The Call

They’re supposed to be the good kind of call. The one you can’t wait to get. The one that prompts popping the champagne and toasting new beginnings.

Yet. When they come out of order they aren’t so good. Instead of shouts of joy they bring tears of uncertainty. Instead of an easy yes and happy planning they bring agonizing choices and fear of taking the wrong path.

It’s supposed to be a good thing. But I just want to run away to a place with no cell signal and some freedom from the ringing.

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About texancountess

I find myself in the calming roar of the sea, floating gently on the foam of the breaking waves. Blue. Green. Gray. The colors of the sea mark the boundaries of my soul. The tumbled glass finds its polish under the relentless pounding of the waves upon the shore. Thus am I. Rough transitioning to polish, refinement ever a process, finding my niche in the storms of life.
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