How much wait is enough?

Waiting...for the water to boil, dinner to be cooked, the mail to arrive, money to show up in my account, someone to read this blog, the nurse to call my name so I can wait for the doctor to come in the room; wait for the day to be over or start.

Days keep coming though and life seems to get in the way of living.

When will I know I have waited long enough and for what or for whom? If I wait too long, I'll miss something, or if I don't wait long enough, I may miss something. 

If I wait long enough, someone will show up, right? Picture a little boy in a play pen, leaning over the wooden side, a red plastic railing supported by wooden posts, the little guy's cow-licked head resting on his open palms. If he waits long enough, someone is bound to stop and notice, right? Someone has got to stop, smile, kiss his head, hug him and be unable to resist his little arms outstretched to be lifted from his confined, soft floored, open-air hut.

Just waiting. Hear it: tap, tap, tap of a pencil or a shoe or the smack-clack of gum, a deep sigh and a breath.

How much longer?

Are we there yet? Such angst from kids - excitement filled with the need, no - the want to be there now - why?

You just wait 'til.......'til what? "your father gets home" - why is that? Mom could switch the back of my legs quite well herself even if I did have to go out and get the switch myself, thinking the skinny switches were the better; they didn't hurt as much, don't you know, kind of like a little kid can't throw much of a punch like a big kid can.

Would you believe that "switch" bush is still alive! It has been over forty years since I harvested my last leg-striping, tiny knobbed switch from it, yet I have driven past the house where I grew up and the thick wad of brown and green thrives, unyielding its clutch of the earth next to the chain link fence, right next to the screen door of the kitchen, an easy harvest for Mom's switches.

At least I didn't have to wait when Mom just went on ahead, not waiting for Daddy, and gave me my lashes, the lashes that made me hold my hands across my bottom, fingers interlaced, my butt cheeks clenched with all the power of a vice grip, knowing with childlike belief that such a gluteal contraction would make any switch just bounce off my behind, wielding no power, having no impact, no pain, no sting. 

Not so. Oh, not so. Not so. Ohhhh, not so.

I'll wait as long as it takes. What are you waiting for?

The wait is worth it... worth what? And is it really worth it? What is it?

Just you wait. I'll show you. Show me what?    

Hurry up and wait........Can you do that?

Your wait time until the next representative is available is - how many minutes? You've got to be kidding.

I think I've put on a little wait.