Today, as I sit here in
my kitchen with soups being created on the stove, snow continuing to
fall-further thwarting the advent of spring that we are all anxiously
anticipating, I'm glancing at my phone, waiting for my number two child-who is
18, to text me and let me know he is on his way home.
My
kids are different from each other in many ways, as is the case with most
families. Besides being different genders, they chose different activities, instruments to perfect, sports to achieve. When Twenty was seven, she said the strangest words I have
ever heard. We were at the swimming pool and she looked at me with her
sparkling eyes and announced, I think I'm going to go swim laps. I looked at
her like she was crazy. I can guarantee you-I've never said anything like that
in my life. And so she hung up her dance shoes, donned a one-piece swimsuit and
joined the local swim club. I’d like to think that was when I began to perfect
the ability of something I like to call, the art of waiting.When I was growing up I too had activities that I was fortunate to participate in and it meant my mom had to ferry me about as well, however it seemed that the one doing the waiting was always me. My instructions were to be ready to go, waiting at the curb, so she could drive up, open the door and I’d jump inside, all without ever having the wheels come to a full and complete stop. My own children did not appreciate waiting for any length of time, should I take the opportunity to knock out an errand or two during classes, which I suppose explains why both were born early-just couldn’t wait to get on with life.
I have driven my children to school, their various activities, school events, and because they pursued different things, I could be in my minivan for hours, just getting them to all of the things they wanted to do. And that meant watching and waiting. I'd try to read, but honestly, I loved watching them, or listening to them make music, so usually I just watched and waited. I'd get to performances early to get a good seat, and wait for family members to arrive in their saved seats. I have waited through rain, wind, snow, sleet, steamy hot pool observation decks, and occasionally a nice cozy sitting room.
So, here I sit this morning, waiting for Eighteen to text me, (kids today don’t call), and let me know he is on his way home. He’s been at a recruitment event for prospective college kids and I’m sure it was a late night and I’m fighting the urge to text him, make sure he is ok, and that he will drive safe on the highway. So I’m pulling out my learned waiting abilities , and continue to glance at the phone.
