Saturday, March 2, 2013

The Most Useless Place

{originally written in August 2012}

Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find,
for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.

You can get so confused
that you’ll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place…

…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.
-Dr. Seuss “Oh, the Places You’ll Go”

I find myself here lately.  At the waiting place.  Waiting for quiet time to write.  Waiting for it to cool off before I run.  Waiting for my baby to sleep through the night.  Waiting for my body to bounce back.  Waiting for tomorrow to start my diet again.  Waiting to wean my baby, so I can get a new tattoo.  Waiting to finish up one project, so I can move on to the one I just started.  Waiting until my house is just right.  Waiting until I’m thin enough.  Waiting until my hair is long enough.  Waiting for my 2 year old to outgrow the “trying twos”.  Waiting {or making my children wait} for me to finish up my long list of today’s to-do’s before I take the time to play with them.  Waiting for the perfect setting to be with my husband.  Waiting to call myself a writer until I am a published author.  Waiting to make new friends.  Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.  Waiting to be happy.
When I was a little girl, I had a very clear picture of my adult life and how it would be.  It was neat and tidy, crisp and clear.  I had my perfect children, upon whom I doted and spent every waking {and possibly non-waking} hour cherishing, never yelling, never becoming frustrated, never wishing I could run away for a day, just to have a few unbroken moments to myself.  I saw myself happily married to my dream guy, the perfect husband, naturally. He was romantic, playful, a good provider, a perfect father.  Life would be perfect.
The things that are missing from that perfect picture are obvious to me now.  What qualities did I hope to bring to the table?  What things would I, myself do to create my own happiness?  Or would I simply wait for everyone around me to make me happy?  
I refuse to let my happiness be determined by others.  And I refuse to stay at the waiting place.  It’s lonely, and it sucks the life out of life.  Because you can’t live while you’re waiting.  You have to live actively, aggressively, passionately, purposefully.  Or not at all.  
Today, I chose, not to wait, but to live.  Tomorrow will bring it’s own roses and thorns, whether I anticipate them or not.

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