Friday, February 1, 2013


What can't you wait until? 
I pondered and pondered this question quite last last night.  This is something I think we should all ask ourselves at some point in our lives, or perhaps more importantly many times in our lives. 
You know the drill ~ I can't wait until my kids are grown. I can't wait until I can get a better job. I can't wait to travel. I can't wait until I make more money. I can't wait 'until' I get married. And on and on. 
I can't wait until. There is always that 'until.'  But what if we can't wait.  What if we don't want to wait? What if time is running our and there may not be time for another 'until'?
Most of the time we are smitten with 'until'. It is a panacea, a place where everything will be beautiful and there will be no stress, anxiety or strife. It is a place where time stands still and all the moments incorporated into this place, this sanctuary, are exquisite, beautiful and timeless.  Moments that stay in our hearts and minds, never to be forgotten.
This question got me to thinking, to remembering, to cherishing moments of my life that I remember.  I remember making snow angels on the campus of Oklahoma University with my soon to be husband.  I remember when my daughter was seconds old and the nurse placed her in my arms.  I remember the loves of my life that turned out oh so wrong, carrying with them great pain and lessons to be learned.  I remember window boxes containing flowers that would make you gasp in Yugoslavia and pizza in Barcelona and summers in Paris with my aunt and uncle.  I remember wild raspberries on mountains in Colorado.  I remember the rumble of thunder shaking the earth in these same mountains.  I remember green moss growing effortlessly along peacefully flowing mountain streams. I remember looked at with love and my heart melting. I remember a yellow butterfly moving from flower to flower and the birds calling out their stories at the end of the day.  I remember moments of feeling peace. I remember being betrayed and hurt.  I remember fear of losing someone so dear to me to a stroke and praying endlessly.  I remember wandering the streets and alley ways of Seoul, Korea and absorbed in the sound of a country that intriguiged me tremendously.  I remember with the deepest love possible the dogs of my life.  I remember the breath of a horse as he nuzzled my neck, telling me in his own way that everything would be okay.
This morning I remember yesterday, sitting in the doctor's office waiting to be called in.  Three people sat with their backs to me.  One a young man playing games on his phone and next to him a Japanese couple watching the Home and Garden Network on the television above them.  The wife was bundled up in a beige crocheted shawl and cap.  I never saw her face.  The husband in an expensive suit, smiled constantly at his wife.  I returned to reading my book and glanced up again to see that he had put his arm around his wife.  With his finger tips he gently made circles on her back.  Then he would softly move his hand back and forth across her back.  I tried to continue reading my book but was mesmerized by this scene unraveling before me.  In this time and place I was witness to love.  To caring. To a man telling his beloved wife that he was there for her, that he loved her, that no matter what they were one. He then took two fingers and drew circles on her back and then returned to soft, tender strokes and pats that brought tears to my eyes in a waiting room in a doctor's office.  The simple beauty of this scene is one moment I shall never forget.  For in this moment, I became lost.  I became envious.  I became sad. I became alive to what love is.
I then knew what it was that I can't wait until.

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