Living on the Edge of Hope

Living on the edge - the edge of what?
It could be the cutting edge -
or the edge of the precipice -
or the edge of a cliff -
or the edge of happiness -
But - tonight it is on the edge of hope -
The sky is calm, a little dusky - dark really - like an impending thunderstorm without the big clouds. There is a breeze - and a dusting of dribble from the sky. I've been here before - I recognize the smell, the brush of soft encouragement on my cheek, the breeze on my forearm as I reach out to push the hair out of my eyes. (When is that haircut appointment?) It's a pensive sense, a familiar anticipation without the confidence of knowing. Not quite like it was when we were living with our feet firmly planted in mid-air, or when I was slogging through the trough of despair, or even when I take up residence in the pit - hang the home sweet home sampler up, put on a pot of coffee, and wallow in the muck that makes it so safe. What or who would want to visit me here? I can count on not having to think about anyone but me - who would want to join me?
The edge of hope is up and out of that - it is like - sitting on the dock of Lime Lake - with my toes barely skimming the surface. Or standing at the edge of the Atlantic - flip flops in hand, staring out, amazed at how close and yet how far away I was. Wondering at the wonder - of the same water droplet splashing my ankles and then flowing back out - farther away then I could ever go..............
The edge of hope is seeing the light in the distance, knowing I can't get there any faster than the plane will fly or the train will rumble. That wishing for speed does not move me faster, and that I will only regret what I didn't get to see - cause I was so busy looking ahead that I didn't see the here.
The edge of hope is like letting go of something, fearing it will fall with a crash to the ground, forever, irrepairably (I should have a dictionary with me) damaged, and instead having it drop fast, too fast, and then suddenly take up it's own weight, and drift.........slowly - out of my sight where I can't reach for it - and take it back -
The edge of hope is dialing the phone number and knowing that even if it goes to voice mail - the voice will be familiar and safe, and soon there will be a message on my voice mail - playing tag - not teasing -but laughing - hopefully - to connect another day - really connect - the pick up where we left off connect, the I am safe with you - can cry and laugh in the same breath connect.
The edge of hope is - now.