Waiting, inter.generation.ally

So much of my life

has been spent

waiting,

waiting,

waiting.

Sometimes,

I am waiting for change.

Sometimes,

I am waiting

for others to see

that I am making change,

whether they like it or not.

Sometimes I am waiting

until the churning in my stomach,

the spinning in my head,

the grip around my lungs

stops

just stops

while I adapt

to the change.

Oh, so much change.

Sometimes,

the waiting is patient.

Sometimes,

it is not.

There is good waiting,

your flesh anticipating,

breathlessly,

the next touch.

And there is bad waiting,

for test results

and news you wished

– afterward –

you had never received.

My child,

one of my children

– a living one –

is not good at waiting.

He reminds me

of my impatience

with life

with all of its complexities,

its annoying details,

its patent ireverence

for how we feel

what we want

when we want it

and why

we feel as we do.

This child of mine,

who is not mine,

for he is already

at age 4

very much

his own person,

this child

is teaching me

about waiting.

He is teaching me

about impatience

and how impatience

can be painful

physically,

mentally,

intergenerationally.

He is teaching me

about a world that

does not wait,

does not want to hear

that he needs

more time

that he cannot not rush

that he does not like to walk

prefers to run,

run,

all of the time.

This world was not built

for this child.

Nor he for it.

Sometimes,

I wonder

whether this world

was built for me.

Or me for it.

He is teaching me

and I am waiting.

I am impatient to learn

every lesson,

even when

I am wishing

I didn’t have to learn any more.

Even when

I grow weary

of waiting

for a world in which

we fit,

this child and I.

One thought on “Waiting, inter.generation.ally

  1. Love this post!!! Your phrase, “Sometimes…I am waiting…for others to see…that I am making change…whether they like it or not” makes me smile. Ahh, patience… Ahh four-year-olds… Thank you for writing and sharing it.

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