All At Once

I began my nonfiction essay, Almost August,. with the following sentence:

“It’ll all come at once, or at least seem that way,” my dad informed me late July in reference to his raspberries. 

Despite never knowing where a particular plastic container fits on the shelf, my dad is often correct.

It'll all come at once... Not quite August, these days, it does seem that way.

To celebrate a series of new roles and opportunities, I am resharing previous blog posts about wanting change, but most importantly, about waiting for it.

That One Left Turn Dry Spell

I Don't Want to Grow Old (Here) Honey Jar

Handhold Nothin' Quite Like Giving Up

Almost August, Again (Holding On) Opportunities (On Hold)

Best Laid Plans Taking a Second (Month)

Changing Course