December 6, 2009

Waiting, always waiting, a lifetime chewed up in waiting.

Waiting to be an adult, waiting for the right job.  Waiting for Friday or waiting for the phone to ring.  Waiting for someone to die.  Waiting for someone to be born.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Waiting for the man to show up or waiting for him to leave.  Waiting to fall in or out of love.  Waiting for end of the month when I can put my clothes and my dog into the car and find a better town to do my waiting in.  Waiting for a town that feels like home.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Some might say it’s a waste and there are roses to be smelled every day, but “some” have never been me and I’m sure the roses can wait another day.  They’ll be just as fragrant tomorrow or next month, in the Pacific Northwest or California or the South.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

It’s an art.  I do it well.


4 Responses to “Waiting”

  1. R. Sims Says:

    and it never ends, does it?

  2. Evelyn Says:

    My waiting seems to always be for the other shoe to drop. Very well said.

  3. My current “waiting” is for my website to be up and in place so that I can start querying my novel. Always a few dollars shy, always a few more tweaks on the laundry list.

  4. janet Says:

    ahahaha Ev — me too! The other shoe! Don’t worry, Debi, waiting just means you have plans and dreams and these are good things.

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