I have lost so many hours of my life to waiting. Waiting for people and parcels. Waiting for emails and letters. Waiting in queues. Waiting at traffic lights. Waiting for delayed trains and planes and buses. Waiting for results. Waiting for appointments. Waiting for the day to end. Waiting for sleep to arrive. Waiting for morning to break. Waiting for the cat to return. Waiting for the dog to leave. Waiting for life to be full and not just full of the waiting.
The waiting grows and expands. It is calm, implacable. There is no life beyond waiting. Waiting has become you. In the spaces of waiting you see star flowers bloom beneath exhaust fumes. Hear the cry of gulls on the wind. Raise your face to a fleeting sunbeam. Bury your frozen fingers in worn gloves. Catch the drifting smell of vinegary chips in the back of your throat. Finally read that book. Call your friend. Laugh. Think. Be.
Perhaps I should wait some more.
Barefoot Sociologist 