Blog by Yessica Maher, los Angeles Native.

She explores life after marriage, starting a career in her late 30's, relationships, breaking cycles of abuse, online dating, self care, fertility and depression. 

It's all over the place, but so is living. 

Anticipation

It's Friday and the rush of a work week winds slowly into talks about a diet, a drink, a plan . . . Life marches and evolves once we leave and their excitement and joy becomes irritating noise when my eyes watch the clock and my longing wraps around me like a cloak.  I'm shrouded and cloistered from their excitement as mine coils within me. Like burning embers and a gentle breeze, heat rises in my cheeks and my pulse quickens.  Agitated fingers tap a beat, a rhythm, a slap tap tap that can't remain still as the day melts into early twilight filtering through blinded windows, soothing the heat of a relentless summer sun with drifting clouds racing through cooler air as the bright blue sky betrays the sun, inking the clouds in darker blues, and pink hues that blend and blur a yellowed tinge of remembered glory.

I'm losing focus as my mind slips from duty to pleasure in the last tasks of a full work week and the joy of what will come tugs and pulls me deeper into thought and thoughtless sensations flood my belly and raise goosebumps on willing skin that begs for a touch and a moment of stolen pleasure on sensitive finger tips and arms that long to hold him.

The moment arrives and I stand to feel a lump slide and stall in my throat, swallowing hard the nervous energy gilded with the fear of rejection.  That beast lives under my skin and she waits for moments to strike me into memories of a rejected love and she slaps me with what was past and it takes a moment to remind myself that stolen moments are just moments and the only promise for tomorrow is my carefully laid resentment if I expect more than is willingly given. Within a few steps, my anxiety has made me forget my purse and keys and my clumsy steps remind me that I wasn't always so confident, and memories of a shy smile and large brown eyes sometimes uncertain and deeply contemplative ground me in my own fragility.

The moment approaches and I take a minute to breathe deeply to calm myself, knowing that I will again smell his unique blend of sexy masculinity and it will surround me, staying on the hand that holds his.  I take a moment and release the doubt that floods me because I am living in this moment and nothing matters outside of it.  I'm ready and anticipation gives way to the arrival.

 

Museum Day

Gratitude