I spend a lot of time waiting.
What, exactly, am I expecting? Well, something.
A song from West Side Story said it best. Something’s coming, something good…if I can wait. I don’t what it is, but it is gonna be great. The character who sang that upbeat, optimistic anthem ended up «spoiler» dead at the end of the Romeo and Juliet-type story. Something good was just around the corner for him–the love of his life. Unfortunately, it turned out to be the sister of the rival gang leader.
Their love, for the short time it lasted, was very good—it came at a price, sadly. What that says to me is that if we’re waiting for life to start (as the sixteen-going-on-seventeen year-old rapsodized in the Sound of Music), then we may just be disappointed when IT finally happens. And we may not have any more time for anything else to happen. Waiting implies standing still. Marking time. Treading water. Holding our own. Anything but actually living in the moment.
An old friend and I went out for brunch the other day, and she asked me if I ever think about the fact that the days behind us are probably more than the days ahead. I spend a lot of time thinking about that very fact. My working days are numbered. My life is in countdown mode.
How does that affect me? Well, I doze a lot in my easy chair on my days off. And I tell stories of the ‘good ole days’ of yesteryear, my salad days, my accomplishments. I count what’s gone before as the best work I’ve done, the most productive part of my existence.
But… what if it isn’t? What if, despite what it seems like, the best is yet to come? Who knows where the road may lead us? According to Frank Sinatra, only a fool would say.
I’m inclined to agree.