We Are Always Yearning

If we have a family, we yearn for a friend. If we have a friend, we long to be part of a circle of friends. If we have a home we imagine a castle. If we write, we need readers. If we have readers, we need a response. If we are healthy we fret for beauty. If we are ill we yearn for a cure.

If the cradle is empty we yearn to fill it. If the house is full of children and their dramas we wish for space. If our home is peaceful we yearn to travel. If we live in the city we dream of the country. If the table is laid we yearn for a feast.

Is it possible to cease yearning ?


For a moment -  when I think of an out-of-touch friend, someone from a past I yearned for. Someone who might yearn for time to run backwards, to the last days of her daughter's health. Who might dream of taking Ruby by the hand and running - on fire with yearning - longing to out-run her child's illness and out-fox her daughter's death.

Sometimes when we quit our yearning, we can manage the harsh consolation of count your blessings.
And  sometimes the other side of  longing is even harsher. Is mourning.