The other night a dear friend and I decided we wanted to make ourselves dinner. After consulting our hungry stomachs, we decided to make Calzones. We scampered around the grocery store for the ingredients. After three hours of adding, mixing, rising, stirring, and tasting, we ate our Italian masterpieces. Honestly, I made a horrible culinary sidekick. I gave up on asking for guidance and ended up sitting on the kitchen floor with a guitar in hand, serenading my culinary Cook while she did the hard stuff. We popped them in the oven and then we waited. And waited. And waited.
Waiting has been the theme of my week. Waiting in line to ride the thriller-est rollercoaster at Six Flags. Waiting on good food. Waiting to see a certain someone I haven't seen in a long time. Waiting for Thursday (my favorite day of the week) to come around. Waiting in ridiculous traffic, while watching in my rear view mirror as a menacing thunder storm slowly crept toward my car. Waiting for loved ones to stop holding onto life in their final days; letting them know that their wait for "a better place" is over and its ok for them to let go.
Calzone waiting was never such a good thing - we sat on the floor and talked about life's struggles and heartaches. We talked about things we wish we did but don't do and things we do we wish we didn't. We drank a deep fuchsia colored pomegranate lemonade and paraded around the kitchen trying to hip-hop dance to accoustic music. We sat and allowed silence to seep into the deepest parts of our souls.
I love how "waiting" is really not simple, yet it's the simple things we do while waiting that makes it worth while.
Living life amidst the waiting.
