November 25 2024
I’m sitting in the waiting room of the gynecologist I’ve been seeing here in Amman. The last time I was here, I ended up waiting for two hours, so this time I came prepared. The room is wide and long, with the wall in front of me made completely of glass, overlooking the beige city from the 23rd floor. It’s not a bad waiting room as far as waiting rooms go. Except there’s a woman who decided to sit right next to me, even though there are literally 16 empty seats. I counted. I don’t get people who do this. But then again, maybe I’m the strange one. I’ve gotten so used to taking up space that doesn’t really feel like mine, always waiting for something to start, but never quite sure what.
One of my favorite parts of Dr. Seuss’ Oh, The Places You’ll Go comes to mind - one that I used to read to Imad all the time.
The Waiting Place…
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
And in this waiting room, it hits me - waiting is all I’ve been doing. It feels like my whole life right now is just one long pause. Waiting for the war to end. Waiting for the baby. Waiting for answers to questions that never stop coming. Waiting to figure out where we’ll live, where we go from here. Waiting for reunions, for the feeling of being home, for the comfort of walking down familiar streets. Or waiting to find new ones that will mark the start of this strange new life. Waiting for my hair to grow out, for the knots in my stomach to untangle, for the anxiety to fade. Waiting for that sense of normalcy I’ve been craving, knowing it’s not just a temporary wish, but something I’ll have to learn to create, like weaving a new world out of the fragments of the old one. Waiting for Imad to settle into school, to find the stability he needs. Waiting to tuck him and Doggy into a bed that’s just theirs.
Just waiting. All of us, in some form, waiting. For some shift, some sign that life will feel less suspended and more real. Waiting for the storm to pass, for the pieces to settle, for the world to catch its breath.
It’s strange how much of our lives are spent in this in-between space. The moments where nothing seems to happen, yet everything is changing. As I sit here, waiting for the doctor and for a glimpse of my son, a sign that everything is as it should be, that he’s growing, that he's there - I realize maybe waiting isn’t just about what we’re waiting for. Maybe it’s about what we’re becoming while we wait. The growth that happens in the pauses, the patience we learn in stillness. To sit with the unknown, with questions that don’t have answers, and to trust that time, in its own way, will unravel what needs to be understood.
So for now, I wait. For answers. For changes. For time to catch up with me. And maybe that’s enough for today.
so nice🥹