debilitating waiting.

I try not to be in too big of a hurry most of the time. I don't like rushing, and I don't like making other people feel rushed either. I am comfortable waiting for them to arrive, knowing they are more comfortable not feeling rushed. 

I was sitting in my parked car the other evening, scarfing down a post-run subway sandwich. Someone was meeting me, and we were going to go somewhere else. I was struck by the joy was was experiencing in that moment of limbo, crunching on the veggies, periodically glancing in my rearview when I heard a car turning the corner, and looking ahead in case she drove up from the other direction. I realized that I actually enjoy waiting on people to arrive. It's a childlike joy, like the the joy of knowing dessert will come if you clean your plate. It is much easier to make it through the brussel sprouts when you know you have three layer chocolate chocolate cake waiting on you when they are gone. My time in the car was kind of like the brussel sprouts, tolerable and at moments exciting because of those little bitty bursts of joy each time I heard a car at the stop sign behind me. The sweetness was the knowledge of my friends impending arrival.

The waiting that sucks is the kind that lets you know, often, that there's no guarantee.