I’m on the cusp. Always on the cusp. Never quite there. Like a swimmer at the edge of the pool, waiting to dive in and start the race of their life, but I never enjoy the rush as my head hits the water. I’m in and anxious to reach the finish line without marvelling that I’ve made it to this point. I see images of lithe bodies springing from the water’s edge, arching up and over and down until a fingertip slices the water’s crystal edge and they are swallowed by the blue expanse. Like a 1950s postcard, all yellow blinding sun and lots of blue like a summer holiday that stretches from spring to autumn. The swimming costumes are always red or polka dotted. I see this but I am never part of it.
I’m on the cusp. I’m enjoying that feeling of being close. I can almost touch it. I would bask in the feeling but I’m too busy preparing for when I finally get there. I can’t sit back yet and enjoy the moment because I’m pondering the final few touches. I mustn’t settle yet because that smells a little like death to me. The search is like a heartbeat, a rush of adrenaline, my lifeblood.
One day I’ll be there and I’ll have everything I need. I won’t need to take pictures on my mobile of all the things I want. I won’t need to write lists of all the things I need to do. I won’t need to say anything because it will all have been said.
Until then, I have much to say and do and even more to lust over. So come with me and enjoy being on the cusp. We’re so close to being fabulous. Just a few more gourmet meals to master, some final touches on our home sweet home and one or two sweet nothings to mutter.