Three years ago, I finished my first book, a memoir about my lost and found mother. I had written that book in the half light of dawn, the darkness of night, and the catch-up hours of the weekends. Three years later, I’m still picking up the pieces of that dream.
I did not need, or want, a new car. I knew that to my core. My little grey SUV, Hoagie, had gotten me everywhere I wanted, and needed, to be for the past 11 years.
To car people, 11 years is a very long time. In the course of that time, the car value depreciates while the little dings, dents and miles grow. None of that mattered to me. Hoagie was my buddy. From work to play, in sun and snow, it wasn’t just a means of transportation, it was a four-wheeled friend.
We wait for the better thing that is just beyond our reach, that great good thing that will finally make us happy and whole. We are more than willing to wait for it, even though it take a lifetime. The thing is, waiting to fully live until the right set of circumstances comes along is like waiting for a pie to cook without ever turning on the oven. It takes some heat to get the gold, on a pie or in a life.