It has been 130 hours and 58 minutes since I have started waiting. I know that I have 246 hours and 2 minutes of waiting left. I'm waiting for a Lemon Tree to grow in my life again. I hate waiting, but I keep on waiting just to see the shadow of the tree once more. I wait. And I wait, and wait, and wait...until we grow too old and cannot wait anymore--until we have turned into stone.
People wait. Time waits. The future waits. And our graves wait. Mothers wait for their children to step into the house from school. Lovers wait for the day of their marriage. A cancer patient stares out the window and into the heavenly skies of their death. The new agent of American Family Insurance company waits impatiently for the elevator to reach the 13th floor. Lucy waits at the retirement home for her daughter to visit her since October 12, 2001 at 8:00AM. Then, there is me that is waiting for the Lemon Tree.
While waiting, we think of what we could be. We picture ourselves in our happiest moments and take the irritating life of waiting as it is. We bond with the ones that want us, we live the hours of life getting used to the absence of the one we wait for, we no longer realize that something is missing, and we move on to our dreams. We stop counting the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, and years until the end. We stop caring, noticing, and hoping. We find new goals and new things to wait for. Is this what boredom does? It makes us careless does it not? I think so. But was it our decision? If I could choose, I would not have chosen to wait for the Lemon Tree. I would demand it to be here now. I would never wait. But we always wait until we cannot wait any longer.
