Day 126

So how long shall we live this way:
We wanderers without destination.
Sailors sans ship.
Adventurers in need of a quest.
Our bindles packed and ready for when that one day call rushes from destiny's lips directly into our eager ears.
Vindication for our patience in our waiting and preparing.
How long will we wait for it? How long can we wait . . .
Our 10 by 10 apartments filled with memories we never reopen and the furniture to bear it.
We occupy space, but only on its surface.
This isn't a home yet.
Yet, a home it never was meant to be.
Simply housing for the in between. Between the last adventure and the next.
If a match was left lit and it all went up, would we have any reason to run into the fire?
Plenty of reason to run from. Life is out there, here is would be just waiting to die . . . perhaps that's what complacency is. A fire burning too slow for us to feel he flame.
I would run from this room, this house, this city, this country, this world if the call to adventure summoned me away.
Because that is my life. Waiting to be called. Waiting . . .
I do not want my life to be well waited. I want it to be well lived.
So.
When do we drop the match?