We seem always have to conform to a life of waiting, with hope or desperation (often both), for being old enough to take out the 1st driving license, to finish school, to find a stable job, to find the other half, to conclude the payment of the mortgage, to the day when the children become independent, and the crisis to abate or improve. Not to mention the nerve-racking waiting, constantly connected with the everyday life: the bus, the train, the the queues at the ticket windows, hospital waiting rooms or the dentist's, the repairman who never arrived on the day he said he would, or finished the job on the date promised, at the supermarket on a Saturday pushing the trolly dragging your feet inch by inch to get to the cashier ...
Bob Hope said that, being brought up together with 6 brothers, he had learned to dance while waiting for his turn to enter the bathroom. Any wonder that his surname is Hope?
Our existence seems like this enormous room of embarkation where whatever journey might be possible although, all of them would land you in the same terminal. What we need to do is enjoy the journey during fair weather, and brave out the downpour and storm. There are different attitudes in the waiting: those who always complain, the ones who lie on their paunches and leave the helm to the game of chance, or those who are the rib bones for the rest, and the ones who live the day as it comes, confident that if they work hard life would take care of the rest. They resign to waiting calmly because that too is part of today's life. This last group is wise and practical, they have hope, they do honest work to the best of their vocation, but they don't expect anything.
Such a person is Ana Maria Matute, a Spanish lady author who had just won the 'Cervante Prize' on the point of completing 86, after a whole life's existence dedicated to literature. It's never too late for someone who deserves it.
Tags: waiting
Prev: 1st June 2011 Tabloid City
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