Perpetually Waiting

 
After the laundry is taken care of and the dishes are done, Sunday evening waiting for Monday morning.
It's like Christmas Eve laying in anticipation for the morning squeals and joy.
It's like December 31 at home waiting for the moment at midnight when it's officially the new year.


Waiting.
Perpetually waiting.
Sitting in a permanent waiting room where no assistant will call you next.


Waiting at the light that doesn't change.
Waiting in the drive through line for the coffee you'll never get.
Waiting for the results you don't know if you want to know about.

Waiting on the phone. 
On hold.

Perpetually waiting.

The days fade from one to the next.
Some things to do.
Something could be done, left undone.
Other things finally achieved!

Waiting to go back to the pool to swim lap after lap all alone.
Waiting for the day we can go back to a job loved.
Waiting to go back to the days of conversations with colleagues.

Waiting to witness the aftermath. 

Perpetually waiting.