Wait of the world
I've said this before, but when you're little, when you're a kid...the holidays are all about the waiting, the anticipation. I couldn't wait to wear my Hallowen costume, I couldn't wait to go trick'or treating, I couldn't wait to go to my cousins, I couldn't wait...
The day before Thanksgiving was almost more magical than the day of Thanksgiving. Waiting for dad to get home, waiting to load in to the car, can't wait to be there, can't wait to see them, can't wait to laugh...and naturally, someone else was in charge of the details, I only had to take care of the "can't waiting."
I miss the can't waiting. Now...I can wait...I do. Patience has long been one of my strengths. The "can't waiting" is left for others, for niece and nephew...and someday they wlll not "can't wait", too, I suppose.
I don't know where this is going. Except...I want to close my eyes, be 10 again, climbing in the back of the station wagon that is not quite warm but will be in 10 minutes... by the time we stop at Wendy's, or McDonalds, or wherever it was I couldn't wait to eat. Warm french fries filling the car with their wonderful aroma, as well as filling my stomach. Sit in the far back, the cold metal of the back area quickly warming from the heater and from the muffler directly beneath, and you had to be careful where you sat because as quickly as it was cold, it would be hot, and you couldn't sit there unless you stretched a blanket out. And even the blanket's insulation would soon wear thin, so all you could do was find a cold spot and hope for the best, while your sisters sat in the middle seats, complaining they were too hot, mom and dad in the front seat, talking about nothing and everything, the radio tuned to a random AM station from somewhere in deep, southern Iowa, while you sat in the back, watching traffic fly by, "can't waiting" for whatever it was that was to come.
"Can't wait" was a part of life.
You were 10.
The day before Thanksgiving was almost more magical than the day of Thanksgiving. Waiting for dad to get home, waiting to load in to the car, can't wait to be there, can't wait to see them, can't wait to laugh...and naturally, someone else was in charge of the details, I only had to take care of the "can't waiting."
I miss the can't waiting. Now...I can wait...I do. Patience has long been one of my strengths. The "can't waiting" is left for others, for niece and nephew...and someday they wlll not "can't wait", too, I suppose.
I don't know where this is going. Except...I want to close my eyes, be 10 again, climbing in the back of the station wagon that is not quite warm but will be in 10 minutes... by the time we stop at Wendy's, or McDonalds, or wherever it was I couldn't wait to eat. Warm french fries filling the car with their wonderful aroma, as well as filling my stomach. Sit in the far back, the cold metal of the back area quickly warming from the heater and from the muffler directly beneath, and you had to be careful where you sat because as quickly as it was cold, it would be hot, and you couldn't sit there unless you stretched a blanket out. And even the blanket's insulation would soon wear thin, so all you could do was find a cold spot and hope for the best, while your sisters sat in the middle seats, complaining they were too hot, mom and dad in the front seat, talking about nothing and everything, the radio tuned to a random AM station from somewhere in deep, southern Iowa, while you sat in the back, watching traffic fly by, "can't waiting" for whatever it was that was to come.
"Can't wait" was a part of life.
You were 10.