Linger

On a bus somewhere between Seattle, WA & Bend, OR:

The bunk is a good place to hold contained thoughts. It's different than sleeping in a bed, where dreams and plans swirl around your head and float away up to the ceiling. Because the bunk is so compact (as in, if you try to sit up straight, you will automatically bang your head on the ceiling), the thoughts you have feel like they hover over your entire body, like a thick heat from a sauna or a ghost floating inches away from your face.

Last night, the thoughts were palpable. My brain would not shut off, so instead of fighting it, I just let the words escape and linger in the air.

a silent phone

purple nails

inevitable futures

mother's day cards

fried food regret

awkward reunions

grinding teeth

waning friendships

I tried to craft a prayer that wasn't my standard "change it" or "fix it" or "HELP!" I want what is best for me to happen. Not as I think it should, but as it truly should. The words dissipated and in their place, my silent prayer filled the space:

Amen.