Boring Waiting & Barefoot Love

Most of the time, waiting is boring.

Waiting to find out where this entry will take you is not boring. It is like a day and it's about a day. Come in and have a day that only takes a few minutes. By the end, you'll remember things you had forgotten about yourself and the people you love.

1. Waiting is anticipation

All week, I was looking forward to going into the BIG CITY with Hulk. "Looking forward to" can be a twitchy, restless sort of waiting we do that makes the present moment a little less interesting. This is not an endorsement, more of an admission. (Most of the time I'm pretty patient).

There are a lot of things worth waiting for. Some things we wait for happen, sometimes quickly, and then we figure out if that's what we wanted after all. Some other things we wait for never happen, and this, too, can be delightful or icky.

A lot of the time, it seems, people who are in Love, Love, Beautiful Love (TM), spend chunks of their time waiting for the other shoe to drop. Someone in the world is in charge of dropping shoes. This is not usually happy news; the news from these shoes, that are known as not whose. Hulk drops his telephone and often books; I have been known to drop dishes in the soapy, soapy sink (Hulk, too...) but neither of us has heard the other shoe dropping, and we are too Dreaminated and Angelsonged most of the time to listen for it.

2. Waiting is a family activity

Waiting for Hulk to clean himself up, and pack the wagon's sidecar on Friday is another sort of waiting. I twiddled and smiled and thought about mornings while Hulk ran around feeling like he had fallen behind (which is waiting in reverse). Hulk's Papa waited with me, which made it all the more pleasant.

3. Waiting is not our fault

Hulk was eventually ready, and we took turns pulling each other in the wagon up the highway until we found traffic, so were able to rest our arms. We waited it out by talking about ideas: what is friendship? what have you outgrown recently? why road rage? We mulled, chewing it all over.

One wrong-turn later, we both fell behind schedule. We had plans to meet Baby's friends, Mr. and Mrs. Pickles, but instead waited and waited and waited on steps of an church in the cold, BIG CITY. To pass the time and stay warm, we waltzed and spun around, raising the eyebrows of nuns and businessmen on their way home. We were late, so in fact the Pickles had left and we were waiting for nothing but the sense to move along.

4. The reunion is stalled, and so...

Hulk took me to a bad hotel, a coffee shop, a second hotel. We discovered that the Pickles had made reservations for dinner (so we wouldn't have to wait for a table) and we had two hours to kill (killing hours is a violent way of waiting for the next best thing).

To pass the time, Hulk and I went to a hair salon. Well, we went to three hair salons. The first one was too hot. The second one was too cold. The third one was just right, even though it was run by a pirate with spurs and a mustache.

We don't really like salons that much.

I waited for Hulk while he was tamed, and then we went off to meet the Pickles for the second time.

5. Waiting areas

At the restaurant, we asked to be seated (to be waited on because by now had quite rumbly stomachs), but were told to wait by the doors until our party arrived. Eventually, we were allowed to wait for the Pickles in the dining room.

They came. We ate. We walked around the park and the BIG CITY together, waiting for our dinners to digest so we could munch on sweet things.

Leaving the Pickles is hard, especially because I feel like I can't wait to see them again. But wait we will. Good thing it's so easy to pick up where we leave off.

6. Mr. Fish waits with baited breath

We had to start pulling the wagon north to visit Mr. Fish for the night. Of course lost, of course nearly out of gas...

Mr. Fish is patient, has a sense of humor, and is familiar with my tangled, messy (but well-meaning) plans. I was sorry to keep him waiting, but glad to catch up.

Once situated, clothes changed (Hulk&Baby wore church clothes ALL DAY) and settled, we realized we were all done waiting and that freed us up for the much better act of being.

Scooted back into the moment of now, it started to seem like there had been a lot of being all along: in the car, with Hulk's poor hair, with the Pickles, with each other in the cold.

This is the sort of love that is barefoot, where no shoe can drop because there are no shoes; no covering and no hiding. The now is fluid and slides from one moment to the next and we are awfully, awfully good at the now. We live and love in it, barefoot. Always.

We hope you can, too.

Peace and Happy Easter.

-n&c-