Often times, we fail to notice the mounting beauty in the wait. As a woman, I think to myself how impatient I verily can be, not going on to unravel the many mysteries that befall the wait. Why, I speak of a certain peak season in this lifetime. The one that calls for a partner. The one that calls husband. But like anything else in life, the becoming usually involves process. I get it. I was not only born a child, I was already born a woman; a woman that was craftily seeded inside of the girl that one may see. I was not only born a girl, I was also born mother, who was deeply planted inside of the woman in me. I was not only born a mother, you see. I was born home-maker long before I could open my eyes to see. Somehow, I was falsely led by the lie of the wait. For this can also mean that I have been waiting all my life for a single second of a moment. It is not that we wait that matters, but more what we do while we wait. Each moment in our lives, however mundane one may presume it to be, equips us for the subsequent stages. Today, I am not the woman that I was yesterday, for yesterday has already prepared me to be that woman today. It is the incremental changes that I see in me, shows me more each day the real me; the potentializing of what already I was made to be, enjoying life unapologetically. As I witness the petals of my life begin to unravel, it begins to slowly express the wife that I was already made to be. It is my duty then, as I know it, to represent me the best that I can be, so that my true husband can finally take notice of his true wife, while in bloom; the wife that is becoming unleashed from inside of me.
Well... I suppose the better half of the question is: How will I know it is him, indeed, once granted that golden window of opportunity?