Writing, and Waiting, from the Road

I don’t often write when I am out and about but I am on a facebook holiday, and waiting to go get lunch.

(Life pause.)

And now I am waiting to collect Little Person from school.  Normally I would do crochet during this wait but by the time I get it out it will be time to put it away. Plus I don’t actually feel like doing crochet. 

I don’t actually feel like doing much. But I will collect Little Person  and we will go home. I will drink some tea and get her started on her homework.  I will probably do some of the mountain of work waiting for me. 

And in the  meantime, I sit in the car and wait for the clang of the gate that tells me it’s time to leave the warmth of the car. 

(Life pause)

That was yesterday.  I am waiting again. Not in the car. Not for lunch. Not for beeping machines or chores to be completed. The only timetable that matters now is the one winding down inside Little Person.  Slowly, slowly she edges closer to sleep. This delicate dance must not be disturbed or she will not settle. I am tired but we cannot hurry her.  We must wait for our moments, and speak our lines. And then I will go to bed. 

I realise as I melt into the sofa, dog spread across the floor in front, the noises upstairs ever quieter, that sometimes, when we fight for what we want we can stop ourselves  getting what we need.  That waiting and doing very little in the waiting is inefficient, but it is also a chance to breathe. A moment to look at how it is and how it could have been. 

Yes I know I am rambling.  But in a time of many challenges, when I am absolutely exhausted with no sign of things easing up this side of Christmas, I am at peace. I can smile at the dog that dragged me through the hedge yesterday. I can wait to kiss my girl good night. I can hug The Dude and take a breath and know that I may not have the energy for all the things but I can do this one thing. 

I can wait. 


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