A blog by Lori Lyons
Showing posts with label waiting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label waiting. Show all posts

Monday, August 15, 2011

Modern love




I sat and watched them, these two young lovers still warm from the first blushes of love.

I watched them exchange knowing glances.  I watched them laugh at each other's jokes. I watched them share their affection for one another for all to see. And they never said a word.

But they did type a few.

He sat in one chair.  She sat in another. Each had a computer on their lap.  And they both knew how to use it.

Acquaintances for -- well, ever -- they only became an official couple in June.  But they've been dating for several months more than that.

If you want to call it that.

He was in one state. She was in another. They texted. They called. They video-chatted.

Youngsters today.  They have it sooooo easy.  And they don't even know it.

Texting.  Skyping. Cell phones. Email. Twitter. Facebook. Blogs.  There's no excuse anymore.

It just isn't fair.

My daughter and her friends will grow up with no idea what it's like to lock themselves in the house for a night (or a week), waiting for him to call.  They'll never know the pain of having to go out for just one minute (or to that college class, or to the bathroom, or to the kitchen for food) only to miss it.


Or that feeling in the pit of your stomach (and your heart) when you realize he never will (even though he said he would, dammit!)


They may never even have to endure the dreaded Dad-Answered-The-Phone-And-I'm-About-To-Die moments in life. Or having your brother answer and tell him (just because he can), "She's out." 

Everybody has their own phone these days, even my 10-year-old (although hers is always lost or the battery is always dead.)


And those long, awkward silences and deep breathing exercises we used to endure because neither of us wanted to hang up (because he finally called), but neither of us really had anything to say either?  Filled now with texts messages. Or YouTube links.

Me? I grew up with my phone hooked to the wall.  In the kitchen.

I didn't get an answering machine until I was a freshman in high school.

My first cell phone came in a big, black pleather bag.

I didn't send an email until I was in my 30s.  A text in my 40s. 

So now I'm left to only wonder what kind of life might I have led if I had grown up with gadgets. I can only imagine what it must be like to not have to stay home (or locked in my dorm room with my I-Have-To-Study roommate) to wait for him to call.

What it must be like for a guy to have no excuse not to call...
(Lost my number my ass!)

Of course, my generation never had to face finding that other girl's number in his phone.  Or those photos. Or that video!!! 

And we never uttered the words, "text me, baby."

Nor would I want to.

Hey, at least we didn't have to put on makeup and comb our hair just to talk to a boy. We didn't have web cams back in the day. No one ever caught me at my computer just getting out of the shower, or in my pajamas, or on Saturday morning.

Nor would they want to.

And my mother didn't have Skype.

But she does now.

Linked up with LoveLinks.








Friday, June 10, 2011

Seasons change

The life of a Baseball Widow...

Winter


Spring
Still spring.

Yep. Still spring.            






































Really?

Summer!

Game over.




Friday, May 6, 2011

It's every mother's day

Photo by Thom Scott
I hope I get to sleep late.

And if I do get breakfast in bed, I hope it's blueberry muffins. They're my favorite.

I'm sure my husband will find me the perfect card. Maybe the perfect gift. I know I will get a lovingly made construction paper card with beautiful artwork from my daughter.

And I'm sure I will have a wonderful day lounging around my pool with no housework or chores to do, and my husband will come home from his visit with his own mom to cook me a scrumptious steak for dinner.

I'm sure it will be a happy day to remember.

But I also remember the other ones.

I remember the ones filled with sorrow and tears. And heartache. There were too many ever to forget.

I remember the many Mother's Day mornings I wanted to just stay in bed with the covers over my head.

I remember going to church on many bright and sunny Mother's Day mornings. And I remember sitting there in the pew, surrounded by all the lovely mothers in their lovely dresses, holding their lovely children and their carnations.



And I remember sitting there as the priest would ask them all to stand up and be recognized. And all the mothers. All the grandmothers. Occasionally all the stepmothers -- and I did get to stand and be acknowledged for that.

But never all the wanna-be mothers.

That was me, the woman with the empty arms and the broken womb and the broken heart. Nobody ever remembers us on Mother's Day.  Those of us who are trying. Those who have lost. Those of  who are waiting and holding their breath. Some for the call, some for the day, some for the ink to dry on their paperwork.

I used to wish there was a ribbon campaign for us. Yellow for soldiers, pink for breast cancer. Maybe lavender for those of us who are waiting?  It's not like we can tell everyone we meet, "I'm trying."

Although, sometimes we wish we could.

I remember.

And I never will forget that first sunny Mother's Day morning I did walk into church with my baby in my arms. The first time I was handed a carnation -- from my own stepson, no less -- and didn't feel like I was stealing it.

And the first time I stood up as a member of the club.

I remember.

But I also remember the ones who are waiting.


Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Waiting....

I'm waiting for my banana trees to grow back from last winter's freeze.

I'm waiting for my pool to reach optimum swim temperature.

I'm waiting to see how much money I will clear after changing my deductions on my W4.

I'm waiting to go to Home Depot to buy flowers for my backyard.

I'm waiting for the weekend.

I'm waiting for lunch.

I'm waiting for June, when I'll have lots of time off!

I'm waiting for the last day of school.

I'm waiting to see if I've lost any weight.

I'm waiting for the guy to come fix the lights on my pool.

I'm waiting for tonight's episode of Glee.

I'm waiting to find out who gets booted from Dancing with the Stars.

I am always waiting for my husband.

I'm waiting for a message from the professional who is reading my book. Waiting to see if she likes it, if she thinks it has potential, if she can find me an agent.

Right now, that's the hard one.

I should be good at waiting. I have lots of practice.

I waited six years to become a mom.
I waited 72 times to see if I was pregnant that month.
I waited in six different doctor's waiting rooms, hoping each one would have THE answer.
I waited six months for a baby to be born to another woman. Then, when she left, I waited two more months for the right one.
I waited three days to take my baby home.
I waited five days for her mother to make sure she was sure.
I waited 18 months for a judge to say she was mine.

I should be good at this by now.