Pause.

Rolling over lazily, like waking up after a lazy Saturday afternoon nap, this space turns through my consciousness. A pause in the ebb and rush, a moment to ponder.

In my little half-way house, people come and go, rushing through their own forests, clearing their own paths. I watch each one's agenda, the goals that fulfil them, and avoid the probing questions- What next? What do you plan to do? How is the job hunt going? Are you planning to have kids? What after this? Frustration bubbles against the little joys, leaving me a frothing mess. I'd like to think of it as a celebratory glass of champagne, but a muddy puddle with frogs hopping in and out is probably more accurate.

Pause, as I attempt to still the water and see past the silt. Pause, as I wait for the questions to stop. As I watch the leaves turn, I remember that not all conversations need to be held on to for a lifetime. Words do not always hold power. I remember that I'm only wandering, I am not lost just because someone tells me I am. All opinions are not equal. I wait for balance, as the rocks and silt settle. People, opinions, words- I wait and watch them find their own spaces in my mind, clearing the surface for a new phase of life.

I wait and watch, as the old that is true does not wither. Past the questions, my mind still moves in the trees, breathes with the wind. The ocean's welcome does not change. On the beach, I wade into the waves. The tide is low, and the sun is setting. Cold sand slips between my toes, and strangely, does not slip past. The rush of waves is a mother's embrace, and I hear her voice welcome her daughter home. Poised in the water, I watch the sunset and the surfers, a sea lion swim past and mussels on the rocks. Each in their own rhythm , all with the ocean. I pause, waiting for the next wave to find my own.