Benched

If today feels like it might never end, I must remember it's but a blip in time. It feels interminable, but in reality it's a page in a longer story. 

Benched, but not forgotten. Watching, waiting, resting. Knowing the game isn't over yet.

There’s a kind of ache that stretches time, that makes minutes feel like hours, and hours feel like they might just swallow you whole. It's the pain of waiting, the painting of days in shades of loss, of the unknown. Of grieving and hoping in the same breath, over and over again.

Right now, this day feels defining. Heavy. Like it might be etched into the architecture of life forever. And maybe in some ways it will be. But not the way it feels right now—not in the way pain insists it will always matter this loudly.

The truth is—today is only one thread in the big tapestry.

But it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like everything. It feels like it defines me. But somewhere far off, future me will glance back at this moment and barely remember the exact contours of this quiet mess, or which emotion came first. The rawness will soften. The sharp edges will dull.

This moment, where I feel like I’m drowning, is actually a gasp for air between laps.

It reminds me of the space between heartbeats. Silent, easy to miss, but vital. The beat matters—but so does the pause. The quiet between. The place where nothing is certain but life is still happening.

I don’t know what’s coming. I don’t know if hope will be realized or how long it will take. I don't know if things will just have to evolve and adjust. I just know that time doesn’t freeze, no matter how much grief or longing tries to convince me it has. It moves. Even now, it moves. And I have to believe that good will come. 

And someday, today will be part of the before. Just a brushstroke in the painting. A foggy memory that once felt enormous but now fits inside something larger—something lived through, a step along the path.

So I breathe. Mark the letting go. I hope, or try to. I remind myself that I am still here. Life's still in motion. I'm not standing still with everyone else moving around me. My path is just different than I thought it would be.

This is the quiet between heartbeats.

And here, life is waiting.

On the bench before play, waiting for my turn, knowing it will come when it's time.