Draggin' through molasses minutes,
       seconds stubbornly refusing to sprint,
       the slowest day…

       of a year that’s already tested patience enough.

Tomorrow—
       wheels up,
       ATL-bound,
       every mile drawing me into your arms,
       every hour peeling away the distance

                    'til that Mari hug
       I’ve been craving for two weeks—
                  give or take forever.

We should’ve watched
   Halliburton’s buzzer-beater together,
                              your gasp,
                               my laugh,

   the instant replay—
       your head shaking in disbelief,
                   as he did it again.

Next game, we won’t miss a second,
     side-by-side,
     Pacers vs Thunder—

     You, (and Ava?!)
     firmly Team OKC.

     Me—
     proudly outnumbered,
     cheering loud enough for three.

Yesterday’s Braves loss—
       an absurd seven-run rally,
       Diamondbacks stealing it late,
       heartbreak felt across Atlanta,
       but even so—

       your boys swung 'til the final out.

Today—
    I’ll take a cue from that resilience,
    lean into the slow rhythm,
    every sluggish minute worth enduring…

    knowing what’s on the other side.

Irbyversary and you,
    perfect celebration,
    familiar chaos,
    every bit of home awaiting my arrival…

    and our hug —— *The* Main Event.

Friday, do your worst—
        stretch out those hours,
        hold the clock hostage,

        but tomorrow?

        Tomorrow belongs to us.