I’m publishing my first book and it’s going so slowly.
Not too slowly, but slower than my imagination.
I’m a skittish colt leaping around instead of running straight through the open gate.
But the colt (and I) aren’t wrong.
We’re not lazy or bad or even distracted.
We’re young and there’s a lot of extra energy and it’s spring and everything is new– and, most importantly– there is time.
There is time for leaping and snorting, pawing at the ground, tossing our heads, putting on a show.
This isn’t a term paper, and we don’t have a death sentence.
Sometimes the rhythm and goals of life are urgent, pressing– but all things happen in their right time.
There is no mistake.
It always goes exactly how it must go– but sometimes I had other predictions or step-skipping hopes.
But in the end, I know I will be satisfied and the gate will be beautiful– even my friend.