Patience is the waitress who dutifully serves your lunch, the mechanic who raises an eyebrow at your simple request shrouded in ignorance, disbelief, and fear of the expense, a child waiting for praise when they have done just enough; or all of the above. Patience must be lived, not learned.
Temporary overnight comfort. Trauma of the day bleeds into an unbearably uncomfortable night; it’s more than insomnia. Oppressive humidity intensifies heat aggressively heightened, the heaviness of it all deprives our mood. Denying resiliency, awaiting relief, seeking shade for a soft soul. We are wilting.