What's to say. A journey anticipated to come and go, (successfully may I add) within twelve - possibly eighteen months start to finish - is now only a reflection upon which we rarely dwell.
Had you asked last week, my reply to the "how are you" or "what's the story" or "anything new" question would have been different from today's reply.
...I know it's all for a reason.
It isn't all for not.
The journey holds many secrets. It has whispered wisdom along the way. Knowledge found through no other venue than this. Compassion and passion burning and fueling the drive within.
I can't compare myself, my story, our story to others. Some have waited mere weeks, others months. Some have accepted and lost. Others accepted only to think they might lose. We're near the top of the lengthy wait list, but I'm certain we won't be the longest.
We simply cannot compare.
It's not fair.
It's not apples to apples.
How could it be? We're all different. Different stories, families, lives, beliefs, loves, animosities, faiths. We're all so very different. We are all so uniquely, so perfectly designed to tick in different ways.
No matter how they become ours, our children are our children. Each with different stories. All holding different journeys to and from their families.
And so here we are at twenty four months of waiting. Here we wait at two and a half years on the infamous roller coaster. We're no closer than we were a year ago. And yet we are.
We don't seem any different perhaps than two years ago. Yet, we have morphed. We are jaded and in the same breath we have seen others cross the finish line. So, we hold on. We hope. We ache. We yearn. We cry out. We pray for miracles. We believe, in miracles. We see these miracles! We wait.