What Are We Waiting For?

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.

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11 thoughts on “What Are We Waiting For?”

  1. Aren’t we just waiting to stop waiting, whatever it may be?

    Waiting for love-waiting for marriage-waiting for children-waiting for grand kids-waiting for death

    Waiting for college- waiting for grad school- waiting for job- waiting for retirement- waiting for death

    And even if we aren’t waiting, we’re searching which may be just a different sort of waiting.

    There was in interesting article in the New York Times about age and happiness. I might have been waiting to read it. But really I think we are all waiting to die.

    You kick my brain’s ass regularly.

  2. You pretty much read my mind with this entry. I was just writing a post on this earlier today. It’s a work in progress but you pretty much hit the nail on the head with this. You should listen to City and Colour’s “Waiting”. It’s a great song that I think you’ll like from thinking back on the other music you’ve posted.

  3. Dear Lindsay,

    You’ve brilliantly and beautifully (not surprising adjectives for you) described the human condition, one of our ultimate failings and one of our ultimate perfections– we are all, truly, waiting. And I don’t know what the hell we’re all waiting for, either, but it’s hopeful, and it’s sad, and it’s very, very true.

  4. ah, the beauty in simplicity is sometimes the fairest of them all. i love the truth in your writing, lindsay. the god-awful truth… who knew it could be so exquisite

  5. There was a line in the movie Greenberg about accepting the life you never planned on.

    For one of the characters, it meant the house, the kids, living in the same town forever. For the other, it meant the nervous breakdown, the lack of accomplishment and the lack of a person to share life with.

    Both characters wanted to make it big as rockstars, but that was years ago.

    It wasn’t Baumbach’s best movie, but that stuck with me. The life you have while you’re waiting. Embracing it, rather than disgarding it as transitory.

    I often feel like I have standards that are too high because I think forward. It’s not that I think about a future of houses that are owned, or of a sign, or of freedom. It’s just that my self image is based on things I will do in the future, things i’m moving towards.

    Embracing the life in between those things rather than waiting for the next stage. I don’t know if I can do that.

    Will might be right about death.

  6. I am waiting for my shadow to catch up with me. He’s back there negotiating with Lady Death, trying to buy us a little time. I applaud his efforts. I can’t even look her in the eyes, though she’s in my liver, in my blood, she’s a reflection of the sky caught in my eyes.
    I’ve covered all the windows and mirrors with nets of black silk, so my soul will not be distracted on its way out of my body–I feel like I’m at a damn 18th century Dutch funeral. So, I am watching the world flit by through black silk netting. And waiting.
    But once my shadow’s done flapping his gums, we will evacuate the holding-pattern-life (and possibly all life). We will no longer be waiting.
    We will promptly tear down the black funereal silk; we will use it to knit a word-sweater. And maybe, if we’re lucky, it will keep somebody warm, some night, when the wind is partiularly bad, when the cold is bone-deep.
    For now, we will go on: my liver, my shadow, and I.

  7. I wish I had something deep and meaningful to add, but I don’t. Like always though, I enjoyed your post. Definitely gets the wheels a’turnin’

  8. So true. All you list merely reinforces that we are alive. Without things to look forward to, what’s the point in living? No matter how miniscule or mundane some of these appear to be, at least they’re SOMETHING.

    I’m waiting to get out of work so I can get drunk and possibly go bowling.

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