It’s not age alone that focuses my recent navel gazing on the “what do I want?” question.
In some deep place, that question has sat idle for years; I’ve just haven’t allowed myself the opportunity to take it out of the box, dust it off, and use it.
I’ve dated men who I knew wouldn’t require it, or men who wouldn’t even want me to be asking such things. I’ve dated men who I knew “what I wanted” wouldn’t matter with, because I could not ultimately put my boat in the ocean with them. We would never travel that longitudinal line.
I have kept myself safe on the shore by never looking toward sea worthy ships- ensuring by pre-selection that the voyage offered was so personally perilous that I would not embark, not even set my foot off the pier, ensuring that the holes in the bottom of each boat were so large and deterrent I could never be sunk by the ones unseen.
But that ocean calls to me- lord, does she- and I finally feel ready to see where she will take me.
So I open the box, raise the sails, and ask, “what beautiful waters shall we explore today?”