Lately it seems even when in I do my harbor for the coming tempest, I still drift away. It isn’t a case of lack battening down hatches, securing the ropes and ensuring the anchor is in the water.
It is as if the rip tide and tugging winds are greater than my measures of securement. I find myself drifting further out than expected, the anchor line drawn tight to the point of almost snapping.
I always find this to be the case when I’ve basically settled somewhere, the water and the wind call to me, as though I may have settled a bit too soon. It seems that there is more of the world that demands I see it, demands I not get too comfortable.
Thankfully Beloved doesn’t mind this habit off mine. He offers shelter from the coming storm, helps untangle lines and cut me free. He simply waits for me to come backs om is harbor, he lets me drift when I need to, sometimes we drift together and other times alone. He pulls me into shelter when I ignored the storm and he sees how I get tangled up in myself long before I do. When this happens, he untangles me or cuts me free. It is as if he is always one wave ahead of me.