I’ve always thought myself to be a patient person. I can honestly say that I have spent hours in a vehicle waiting. Waiting for Steve to leave work, waiting for lights to change, waiting for the signal man to turn the sign and waiting for the world around me to begin each day.

I usually occupy my waiting moments with drifting, random thoughts and people watching. And time does indeed go by so quickly when I wandering aimlessly inside my own head. That almost sounds like there’s plenty of room in there doesn’t it? Well, some days there is, some days.

Yesterday was a day of “hurry up and wait”. I so desperately wanted the day to hurry up. I wanted it to be 4:30 already so I could pick up Steve from the airport. Then it was going to be hurry up and be 8:30 so we could pick up my brother from a different airport. Then on to 11:00 so we could drop Derek off at my dad’s house, then hurry up and be tomorrow already.

Well it’s tomorrow already and I still don’t feel calm. I’m not patient or settled, I’m waiting, still. I’m trying to stay out of my head (there is entirely too much going on in there) and everything is just boring. I try people watching but can’t seem to follow them for more than a few feet, 140 channels to pick from on the TV and I think I’ve gone through them all already, a few times. I have phone calls and emails to return but just don’t want to be bothered right now.

I have been wishing a lot lately for something to do and yet I don’t want to get too involved with anything because I’m too busy waiting. I am tired from sleep deprivation but mostly I’m tired from waiting.

Time goes by so slowly for a heart that waits for an end only to be followed by days that are blurred as the wound begins to heal.