Do you remember waiting for your date to arrive in the driveway with his rattletrap ’69 Chevy, sitting behind living room curtains, waiting, waiting, what if he doesn’t show up?
Do you remember waiting to birth your first baby, big and uncomfortable and half-nervous, please, just let’s get this over with, I can’t last another minute of swollen irritability, and may the baby please be born safe with all ten fingers and ten toes?
Do you remember waiting to hear if you got the job, if you succeeded in that interview when you were oh-so-nervous, thinking what you could have said, should have said, how you want this job, please Universe, you really want this job?
Do you remember when your sixteen-year-old took the car for a spin, just a little spin, and the roads slicked with ice and you waited, heart pounding as the minutes stretched longer than the road to town, longer than it might take to spin into the ditch, to hit a tree, to slide into perilous possibility?
Waiting for minutes to tick by. Waiting for hours to tick by. Waiting for today to pass. Waiting for this month, this year, this lifetime…
Waiting to hear if your precious daughter weathered Hurricane Sandy in New York City.
Tick, tock, tick, tock.
What kind of waiter are you? Are you patient? Are you impatient? Do you tap your toes with nervousness? Do you stuff your mouth with chocolate? Do you drink wine?
Or are you calm and blase, trusting implicitly in the Universe to deliver exactly what is needed on the doorstep of your expectations?
Someday soon~~when I’m entirely grown up and mature~~that’s how I’m going to be.
I am going to Trust the Universe 100%.
In the meantime, toes tap and I don’t know where to turn. A mother’s heart is sometimes worried.
I cruise the news about Superstorm Sandy’s wrath and ponder at what point to write the Red Cross (they just put up a site where you can let your family know that you’re safe, just in case they’re worrying.) Last night I checked the CNN blog well, let’s just say, too many times to record without embarrassment.
This morning it said 50 homes burned in Queens, the home of my loved one. I immediately called up a map to measure the distance between Breezy Point neighborhood and my bebs. No, her house wasn’t nearby.
Bless those who lost their homes…
Last night a tree fell on a house in Queens and killed a 30-year-old man. I phoned–for the sixth time yesterday–to make sure her boyfriend was OK.
“He’s 29!” my patient daughter reassured.
I don’t think that will make much difference to the mama who is grieving her son today.
Feasibly, one might wait days and days and days to hear news of your loved one–if the electricity and cell phone towers are destroyed. You could wait through breakfast, lunch and dinner for days, worrying, fussing, trying not to worry, trying not to fuss, praying, sending positive thoughts, trying to send positive thoughts, now what’s that Red Cross site anyway?
And then, maybe five days down the road, your phone will ring and it’s your love one with her power restored, her phone working, everything’s OK, Mom, really, Mom, c’mon quit crying, Mom, everything is FINE!
But guess what, dear reader?
Just as I was writing about this Waiting game, this game we humans play–an email zipped in my inbox. It said:
good morning, we are fine and still have power. didn’t want you to be worried as the headlines look a little ominous. don’t think i have work as it doesn’t sound like the subways will be running anytime soon. also, my work probably doesn’t have power.