The creeping impingement of their existence into the core of my day has consumed me whole and stomached me for good. I wake up with questions, wondering about my existence in their masterful whole, and I fall asleep to intergalactic jazz soothing my sorrows. In fact, I tend to always drift off, imagining myself as a Bond girl-space-babe running off with my alien Mr. Bond and laser beams shooting us into the sun’s set. Yet, as out of this world and sci-fi cheesy as it may seem, I regularly find myself waking up in loneliness's terror. Somewhere in the deep trenches of my stomach, amongst last night’s late-night pasta and the anxiety of the future’s unknown, I find my present most unassured. This uncertainty comes with the presence of foliage, yet by the Mediterranean, I only see the sun and the lush green. I hear nothing but soft whispers of olives falling from southern trees. How did I know when it wasn’t so clear to me to begin with? Was it my circadian rhythm that sensed Summer caressing Autumn’s cheek goodbye?
You see, dear reader, I have realised something about our human nature that I find so amusing. We celebrate the passing of time so biblically, and we drink, we dance, we kiss, we eat 12 grapes, and we wear white, yet our New Year occurred a few months ago, at the start of September. We begin to place expectations of who we would like to become in a few months’ time, hoping that by the death of the tree comes the death of our unwanted pasts. Soon we are reborn, like Venus in spring, blooming and blossoming desired habits and manifested relationships. However, we don’t consider the unnatural state of human desire. We have strayed away from nature’s path and for a while celebrated the false end of a cycle when, in reality, the vicissitude of the seasons has no alignment with the vicissitude of human progression (or regression as my anxiety fears for me). But I wait. I let the course of time, my actions, their words, my desire, and nature’s succession allow for the inevitable change. For better and for worse, in sickness and in health, ‘I Do' let myself marry the uncertainty of my existence and hope that somehow they are always there.