Over decades, we have surely discovered events or moments in our life experiences that will never ever end.
These events and moments are the ghosts of “never ending” appear to nag and torment. In the theme of “unending” lies a list, an “never ending” list about those ghosts:
Being in labor hour after hour definitely makes the list. (45 hours?). Followed by C-Section.) After ten hours, just when you beg for an epidural, an army nurse briskly tells you that it is too late to give one.
All the while, husband is waiting, being supportive. Around hour 35, husband pops out for some diet coke, comes back at hour 40. He will pay for this later on.
Flights to the other side of the world. Australia? South Africa? Switzerland? You find yourself in cheap seats, middle seat packed in, between two large people.
Or maybe you will find yourself next to a 5 year old who not received an hour of strong parenting in all those 5 years. Oh, what hell.
Picking strawberries day after day after day. No joy after the fifth day. Mid-May arrives with garden full of red berries peeking from green leaves. First day is like discovering rubies, sweet rubies.
Leads onto the second day, third day, fourth day, fifth day.... This will not ever end. You will soon find yourself picking green beans. Then you will work in a steamy hot kitchen canning those said beans. Lord have mercy.
Waiting in an emergency room, filled with sneezing and coughing. You have a brain-splitting migraine and your blood pressure is 177/91.
With your head dropping to your knees and a throw-up bowl beneath, you watch as a child with sinusitis(#45) is called in. You are #62.
You won't live to see the end of this day.
Driving through Death Valley in summer. (Been there, done that) Long straight road over flat desolate land, you see in distance, heat waves fooling you to think it is water. It is 121 degrees and you watch your car's gas light like a hawk.
Who planned this route? Not me.
Standing in the line at DMV, until legs are shaking, growing light-headed. Husband is home, too sick to go into the line from hell to transfer registration.
You are three months pregnant, and hours pass. At the third hour, you tell the kind lady behind you that you are pregnant and wonder if...then you open your eyes as you lie on the floor. Registration was expedited.
Your husband will pay for that one, too. He was sitting at home, sick with a runny nose, and watching TV.
Sitting in rush hour traffic on the Friday of a four-day weekend. A black juiced up muscle car is shaking with the bass turned up high. You have windows rolled up, and yet you are vibrating as well. Is the world filled with idiots who have lost their hearing?
Most or all of this involve unending waiting…and more waiting…It will be unending. Always makes me crabby.
Please forgive the frequent references to my husband. Write about what you know.
What about you? Can you add to this list your own unending events?
