We’re all waiting but I don’t know what we’re waiting for.
Maybe it’s walking down the street and stopping short, held up by a red light, needing that white stick man to signal you to continue on your way.
Maybe it’s waiting for the right person to wander into your life, someone fit to love, or waiting for the courage to leave the wrong person who did.
Maybe it’s blowing on your tea urging it to cool or remembering the cup you have yet to drink and warming it back up in the microwave with a sigh.
I don’t know what we’re waiting for. A sign. The clouds to open up and a divine voice to tell you that it’s okay, he gets it, you’re doing the best that you can.
Waiting for results or waiting for the chance to take a test.
Waiting for the words that heal you or free you.
Waiting for the pieces to click into each other, finally, after all this time.
Waiting for a pattern to emerge.
Breathing in and out.
Waiting for the sun to go down or to come back up.
Waiting for the right moment or the right words.
Or a million different qualifying factors that just never come.
We’re all waiting, patiently and impatiently.
I just don’t know what we’re waiting for.