The cold night air bears testament to the end of summer and the arrival of autumn. In my mind, I can picture the gold and red leaves as tress ready themselves for the oncoming winter chill. Yet in these moments that are meant to be enjoyed in its slow pace, my mind can’t help but wander in the dark.
“Is it going to be finished anytime soon?”
“What will they say when they find out?”
“What will I say when I write about it?”
“Will I look good in it?”
“Do I have enough time left?”
The barrage of thoughts were interrupted by the the cold hands that pulled me closer to a warm body. I eased myself into a better position, leaving the last of my mental wanderlust aside. If there was ever a thought left, it would be of the comfort that one can bring to a troubled mind.
I know I can expect a lot out of the coming week. Yet in these arms, there is no sense of rushing into things. For moments like this at least, there is no point in wasting its seconds. So I sleep, knowing that this dream can end the moment I close my eyes. I sleep, knowing that my questions will be waiting for me the next morning. And I sleep, knowing that she will still be there, a reminder that not everything has an answer, and some things are always a neverending question.