I would like to write my life’s story sometime, but I keep feeling like it isn’t the right time. Like I’m climbing the mountain and then when I get to the top, I can write about the experience. It just seems like I’m never quite there. There are still so many unresolved areas in my life. I’m waiting to get to the point where I’ve reached the top and now it’s no longer a struggle as I hike along the ridge.

I’m still climbing the mountain.

The top seems just out of sight.

When I’ve lost the weight,

when he has the job,

when bills are not a worry,

when Pearl is not anxious,

when Joey is okay,

when Cliff and Adrienne visit,

when I have a degree,

when everything is perfect.

Then I’ll have something to say,

then I’ll be worth listening to,

then the music will start,

then words will flow,

then the guilt and shame will flee,

then I’ll be worthy,

then I’ll soar,

then I’ll rebuild the walls,

Then I can begin.