I am not a patient person, but I’m learning. I’m being forced, like a buttered-elephant through a rabbit hole, inch-by-buttery-squeaking-inch, I learn to wait.
I learn to wait to be able to pray again.
I learn to wait for Bug’s tics to settle so he can sleep.
I learn to wait for my own sleep to come.
I learn to wait while my back heals from overdoing it the day before.
I learn to wait for doctor’s appointments.
I learn to wait for test results.
I learn to wait for answers to questions I don’t really want answered because I didn’t really want to ask them in the first place—What’s the prognosis? What is the stage? What is the treatment protocol? When will it start? Will he make it? Where will we be for Christmas? Will there be a next Christmas? How will we do this? Will I be strong enough?
And then I remember I’m a buttered elephant in need of a shower. Have you ever tried to fit a buttered elephant into a standard-sized shower? Fuckin’ A.