Chaos has descended upon us. The world is turning too fast and we hold on tight hoping not to fall.
We are surrounded by long list of to-dos: things to book, things to buy, things to sign, things to find, .... they fall around us and weigh us down like heavy rain on our clothes.
We build castles of cards that regularly tumble down, and we pick them up, and they tumble down, and we do it again, moving forward, slowly building paper bridges towards an imaginary ship that will take us to the promised land. That place we have imagined, that place we talk about as if we knew it, that life we have been promised, the story we have yet to write.
Meanwhile I feel like I'm making the whole thing up.
The children are impatient. They want the adventure to being. They are wearing their travel boots and their visions of wonderland and wondering what is keeping us all.
The parents are tired, snapping. Five am eyes wide open mechanically reciting the to-do lists as if it was a prayer.
Tensions run high from anticipation of the short-term chaos.
We are about to jump off a moving train mid-sentence, and my heart breaks just a little for the stories we won't get to finish.
The world keeps turning.... this world set to carry on without us
