The In-Between

The stories don’t really focus on the in-between.

The smell of forty days of animal excrement on the ark. The calluses of fourteen years working for the bride. The twenty-five years of getting old and still no baby laughter despite the promise. The taste of manna every meal every day for four decades. The rejection of being a destitute Moabite widow gleaning in an Israelite field. The fear of being an unknown Jewess married to a Persian king. The buildup of sawdust from thirty years being a carpenter in Nazareth.

There’s a lot of in-between in my own life too.