the waiting room {a place}

she sits in the waiting room waiting to be called waiting to be tested waiting to be told.

and always in the waiting room she thinks of other waiting rooms the many many waiting rooms she was in one year.

she thinks of the person the people who were sitting beside her then and she thinks about how one of those people who she hasn't seen since her wedding sent her a message last night.

just to say i love you.

and as she waits, she thinks of another person and thinks about hearing that person's voice on her voicemail last week for the first time in maybe 10 years.  maybe 20.

just to reconnect.

and as she waits, she thinks of another person, someone she called a while ago.

just to say i'm thinking of you, and she thinks about how this person told her months later that the message reached her at just the right time.

she smiles to herself as she waits in the waiting room and thinks about how often she tells herself to wait until she has enough time to properly catch up to hear the whole story to write something meaningful and full

before she calls.

before she writes.

and she thinks of the person who didn't wait and wrote her just yesterday with two lines that made her feel like a million bucks.  someone she hasn't seen in over a year.

no catch up no "let's get together" no padding.

just two lines of love.

as she waits she thinks about the people who will simply wait for her.  and the people for whom she will simply wait.

and she decides that the act of waiting can be an act of love too.

I do some creative writing here like what you just read.  Bits and pieces of fact and fiction.  One small way to keep myself creating.
This week, I'm exploring how we make (and don't make) deep connections.