Waiting

It’s a verb but it’s also a being. Like someone breathing, living, next to you. Most often in life we hate this other being. We detest waiting. We seek no company with waiting. We want none of it. We won’t have any.

And then there are times. Funny we should use ‘times’ as the qualifier here. Because waiting then assumes a much larger significance than ‘time’. Waiting transcends time.

During these ‘times’, waiting creeps up but it lets you be. It comforts you. Suddenly, you don’t mind being friends with it. You seek companionship with waiting. It doesn’t desert you and you stick with it. Because not waiting means not being accorded a privilege. Because not getting to wait means stassis.

But waiting is hope.