Patience is a virtue. I learned that as a child. There is a measure of waiting for everything. As a kid I took to sitting on the narrow stone steps outside my grandparents house to wait. I waited for my father to visit, I waited for my favorite movie star to drive by, and I waited for the millionaire to come and ring the doorbell. Such unrealistic waiting, because one day my father stopped coming and I was seven, Kooky Burns was never going to lend me his comb and the millionaire was a fantasy.
My waiting continued off the step inside my heart as I grew older, waiting for the right moment to get out-of-town, to find my own piece of step. Life took me and tossed me high above that place. My plans never seemed to be among life's plans and the Cinderella story came apart at the seams. I was good at waiting, I'm the best as a matter of fact. Disappointment has often overshadowed the anticipated outcome but that is because I expected too much. Someone later advised me to simply show up-to be present and let the rest happen.
Recently I sent a manuscript to my agent for review. The third of three books I've written over the past twelve years. I've learned so much, and I know that I'm still a student of life. But I believe so passionately in this manuscript, in what it stands for and what it means. I've written into uncharted writing space, into a virtual unexplored subject, 9/11.
There is no stone step outside my house, no place in effect where I can sit and wait. Sitting and waiting is not allowed, I am always on the move, brain and body busy, the target unable to be hit. I pray a lot, I write, I sometimes put my worry people outside of their little box. I pretend I am fine, from the outside I am calm. But inside, I may as well be that little girl again, waiting. Never give up, never give in, this time is the right time.
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