Would you always. Maybe sometimes.

When great things are on the horizon- this is when what’s called anticipation sets in. Oh, the anticipation I feel today! I’m fortunate in that all I’m awaiting are glorious things. Perhaps you are awaiting something too?

My heart beats now as if all will be as it should soon. For in a few short weeks I will be with my dear father. I can hardly believe nearly nine months have come and gone without a sight of him. Anyone who knows me understands the way in which I cherish my relationship with my pops. He is quite the apple of my eye. Anticipation, I’m so glad that you have come.

What else am I awaiting? I’ll tell you. I don’t find myself to be particularly gifted in any creative realm. My brother got those jeans. Genes? But recently I experienced a surge of it and produced some things that I am actually really excited about. I hardly like admitting it, for I find art to be a most personal thing in my life. But if I’m willing to blog, I suppose I should be willing to be transparent about most things. Thus, I am awaiting another burst of creativity. I don’t know if it will ever come, but I am left eagerly waiting, anticipation by my side.

It seems anticipation is something one cannot muster up on one’s own. It’s a powerful force that nudges every step and thought forward. For me, I walk a bit more wide-eyed. I even skip now and again, oblivious that I’m on display for Thai rugrats. Anticipation, I could get used to you.

Marshmallow water.

. . . but I can see you, I can see you now.

I love sitting motionless at the break of day, holding a warm mug of coffee- it’s steam fogging my view as I peer out a door wide open. I simply watch the life go by- not 20 feet before me. I find peace in the passing and going of the natives here, for their walking steps are never quick. I like to imagine what they might be dreaming up, where they might be going, what song they might be singing in their mind. Could it ever be the same that I am singing? A sip of my coffee and I take it all in. This is my morning ritual.

A young boy, whose rusty bike is much too big for his body, pedals strenuously and happily across my view. Few moments pass without a sign of life. A bird lands effortlessly on a power line, a thirsty dog searches for relief from the heat, and the wind hypnotizes the great foliage that is Thailand’s own. It’s all beautiful, I think merely for beauty’s sake.

Occasionally a motor bike whizzes by- piled high with both goods and offspring. I smile at the familiarity of it all. And it’s comforting being an audience, remembering that the world doesn’t revolve around little old me. I need this. And I find that each morning, such silence is a gift.