Waiting
I am not a waiter.
By that, I don’t mean I do not work in a restaurant serving meals. Truth be told, in the past, I have indeed waiter waited; I did not do that well either. In the end I’d describe myself as an optimistic misanthrope; I like individuals, I just find humankind as a whole pretty overrated. That kind of outlook doesn’t serve one well in the hospitality industry. But I digress…that is not what this is about.
No, I mean waiting, as in passing time until something that is going to happen, happens. I do not wait well. It stresses me out.
The constriction of waiting. This is what leaves and flowers must feel as they are pushing, groping their way into bloom; aching through hard ground, unveilding wood until finally, finally released, they unfurl into relief.
Here is the misconception about waiting: it seems a passive endeavor. It is nothing of the sort. Waiting is an extremely active thing. It is like a race car, engine revving, wheels spinning, but with the brakes held firm, anticipating that moment of release, building up tension, energy, until released, it shoots from the starting line like a madman pursued by screaming demons.
A bit dramatic perhaps, but nonetheless true, for me anyway.
This Co-op buying experience that Jamie and I have been going through has been 10% active and 90% waiting. And it’s been going on for months. And we will continue on in stasis until next week. Until next week. He sees a light at the end of the tunnel, he sees the light changing from red to yellow and oh so soon to green. His foot tingles at the thought of lifting from the brake. He senses relief coming like a cool breeze on a stagnant summer day. He sees an end to the waiting.
This is not buying a toaster. One cannot walk into a store, pick up a home and head to the checkout. It’s a long, drawn out process. It is a process that is maddening to the bad waiters of the world. And yet…
Soon Jamie and I will have a home that we can call “ours”. And while it’s true that our current rental is our home, the Co-op will be our home. A place owned that we can make our own.
And that, my friends, is worth every bit of the wait.
Nite,
k.
