We adults might not jump and down, shake our bodies in anger, stomp, cry while waiting, waiting, waiting.  But it can be just as frustrating, tiring, hopeful, as we sit, stand, lie trying not to look like we REALLY need for time to be stopped, the second hand lingering WAY more than a second over each tick-tock of the clock.  And waiting can be for the good/bad/ugly/dreaded/anticipated…..

what sex is the baby?  will this pregnancy ever end? 

was the contract for new business signed? or, did i get the job?

will she go out with me?  will he sleep with me? will they follow their hearts or their brains when they hook up?

is the traffic unmoving, as i am in a critical hurry to reach my destination (as if no one else is), hands on horn, toes tapping?

how long in hospice until peace descends?

will my “friend” return my third, fourth, fifth phone call/text/email?

when will spring arrive, turning the earth green again?

smell the banana chocolate-chip bread cooking?

i have been at this gym for #@*& weeks?  when will i have the body i imagine, after all this work?

how do i always find the slowest check out line?

We wait for the mundane, the life-altering, the tragic, the hip, the meaningless, the meaningful, the glorious, the dreaded, but we wait.  And hope. And hope not. 



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